


The Edges of the Night

by Punkneeter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Fighting, Follows the books and the movies, Joins the fellowship, M/M, Magic, Possible love interest, Severus travels to Middle Earth, alternative universe, gay vibes, life after death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2019-06-19 00:44:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 69,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15498501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punkneeter/pseuds/Punkneeter
Summary: When Severus closed his eyes for the last time in the Shrieking Shack, he had thought that he would finally be allowed to rest in peace through death. Yet, it seemed that fate had other plans for Severus when he wakes up alone in an unknown forest.It isn't long before he finds himself at the Shire and meets Frodo and Gandalf. With no choice, Severus must help Frodo and join the fellowship to destroy the ring. But how much more must he suffer at the ends of twinkling blue eyes, a Chosen One, and dangerous objects.





	1. Prologue

Severus struggled to keep his eyes open, but he was tired. He could not move as the poison began to course through him, killing him with every passing touch. When Severus closed his eyes, black lashes brushed against his pale cheeks. Green was the last thing he saw. He could barely feel the soft touches of tears that still laid on his skin. The sounds of the wind crashing into the old wood and leaves fighting against each other had washed away with the sound of the war. With one, last, shaky breath, Severus became very still and cold brushes touched his skin, claiming him into the darkness.

 

It was no longer cold, but it was surely dark. Severus didn't feel anything nor did he see a single thing. It was like taking a dosage of dreamless sleep, just without the foul taste of the potion.

 

There were no more dreams. No more nightmares. There was just an empty oblivion that he could barely register.

 

He didn't know how long he stayed there, but it was almost relaxing in the emptiness he found himself in. In a cruel way, death had seemed to be the only one to offer him comfort from all his years in life. Returning to these shadows was more welcoming than it was lonely. He was used to the feeling of being alone and he often desired it. At least then, he had nothing to fear. And if this is what death was, Severus would gladly accept this fate. Perhaps now, he could find peace. Yet it would seem that fate had other plans.

 


	2. It's Only the Begining

Severus laid in a soft bed of moss and leaves. He could feel the warmth of the sun on his skin and the forest beneath him. His body felt heavy and worn as if he hasn't moved for years.

It took a great deal of strength for him to stir, but it took all of his energy to open his eyes. The darkness fought against it, holding desperately to him, but soon they lost their grip and Severus had opened his eyes.

At first, Severus was blinded by the light. He scrunched his face in pain and turned his head away, crying out at the stiff muscles that fought against it. After a few moments, Severus could hear the heavy beating of his heart, coursing the blood in his veins. His own breathing was loud and painful, but nonetheless there. He could smell the earth and breath in sweet air.

With another push, Severus opened his eyes once again, blurry eyed. Above him, there stood trees that reached the heights that those in the Forbidden Forest never dared to climb. Their leaves were a beautiful green that reflected against the sunlight in a golden halo. They brushed against one another in the wind, gentle rustles greeting him in a playful manner.

Severus could see several birds flying across the sky as they tweeted happily, bathing in the warmth of the sun.

Severus did nothing but laid there and taking in the world around him. He watched and listen for anything to tell him where he was or what he was doing there. It didn't make any sense. How was here now? Where is he? But no one came and no one said a word to him.

With a groan, Severus mustered up his strength so that he could be in a sitting position and finally taking notice that he was still in his black robes. There were rips and blood that stained the cuffs and vest. Reaching for his neck, Severus could feel the ridges of a scar. The wound was no longer raw and open. His potion stained fingers caressed the skin until they were met with a cold chain. Gripping it, Severus traced it to the center and looked down to find a silver pendant. The pendant was carved into a leaf. It was very detailed. Severus’s fingers grazed the blades and the veins. The slight lines and folds on the pendant made it almost feel like a true leaf. It was detailed to the core. The most marvelous thing was that it was not solid in form but laced together. The smalls gaps gave the leaf a frosty look, glowing with a translucent view.

It was beautiful and by far the most wondrous thing that Severus had ever held. There was magic in it, something old and pure. Clasping it in his palm, Severus closed his eyes and breathed in. He could feel the magic flowing into him like water and could feel the life of the forest around him. The plants, the trees... he could hear their voices on the wind. He could understand every word and every one of their emotions. He felt connected to the world around him. The light of the sun, the moon, and even the stars shined deep within him, filling him with power and warmth he never knew.  He could trace every drop of water from the dew of the leaves to the coursing river. There was nothing he could not see or feel. Listening in, the world around him whispered greetings and blessings. There was a soft tinkle that sounded like bells, but he could hear traces of a child’s laughter around him.

When he opened his eyes, the tranquility did not leave him, it moved along steadily and continuously within him, but dulled as to not overwhelm him.

With a soft sigh, all the tensions, all the hurt, pain, and guilt washed away, but their scars and memories did not leave him. It was a small comfort he did not expect to be given, but he did not realize how much weight he carried until it was removed in that instant.

With one last questioning gaze, Severus had risen into a standing position. There was finally feeling in his limbs and in his heart that made it easy to move.

Severus searched himself and was surprised to find his wand in his pocket. He cast a quick cleaning spell on himself and was pleased to find that he was still in possession of his powers. At least he had that, but he still did not know where he was or where he was supposed to go. Surely, there was a reason for him to be there even if he didn’t know why.

He didn’t need the magical spurge to know that he was in a place unknown to him. Everything around him, while seemingly looking like a regular forest, was anything but just that. The natural order of the Wizarding World contrasted greatly with this one. Everything was different. Something told him that this was not his world, but as craze as a thought that might be, his gut has led him to safety too many times to deny it.

Even so, the sun was high in the sky and it would not be long before the night would take the sky and he would be left in the dark in an unknown land. It was not a risk he was willing to take and he needed to find some sort of shelter quickly. He didn’t know how far away he was from a civilization or if he would find anything of use for days to come. Making up his mind, Severus took his wand and turned a twig into a small, bottomless bag.

While the sun felt heavenly on his skin, never allowing himself the soft pleasures of life, it was causing himself to feel a little too warm given the thickness of his robes. A single charm would work, he knew, but that didn’t stop him from shedding his outer layer and placing them inside his new sack. He kept his outer tunic and his dark vest but removed everything else. It wouldn’t be any good to cause any damage to his robes. They would be more of a hazard if he was caught by a branch or something else. There wasn’t any sort of transportation that he could use other than his feet and he would get hot and bothered with his future hike.

Once he was done, Severus followed the direction of the moss on the tree and made his way north. He walked for hours never meeting a single person on his trail. He had passed several beautiful sceneries, many of which he only allowed himself a bit of a glance of appreciation before he continued on. He could hear the running course of a river and followed it until he met a clearing where the water crashed against the earth. The water was clear, more white than blue. Severus reached down and felt the cool touch of water meet his skin. He gathered some in his hand and splashed it on his face, allowing it to refresh and cool the warm skin from his trail. With a wave of his wand, he created a canteen and began to fill it with water.  

Severus wasn’t sure when he would find water again, but he made sure that he had filled enough that would last him a few days.

As he continued, Severus missed the feeling of death. At least there, he did not desire food or drink. It was only because of his expertise with herbology was he able to find safe berries and roots to eat. Surprisingly, he found some potion ingredients along the way. With examination, Severus noticed that these were the best ingredients he’s seen. They were fresh and strong. Not even Professor Sprout’s own garden could compare to the plants that grew here.

Severus harvested many along his trail. He could always create his own cauldron and tools, but it was always better to have them made expertly by a blacksmith in the profession. They usually made them with Wizarding Iron that had properties far stronger than that of regular iron. It was made strong and could handle the toxicity of ingredients and the burning heat of the flame. Too many times had he seen poorly made cauldrons melt at the touch of heat or slight touch of ingredients. They could not handle the combing of magical substance that was actually a lot more dangerous than one would think. It was the physical form of magic combing and could lead to explosive effects if not done correctly.  Good cauldrons had to be made to withstand such dangers.

Severus doubted he would be able to find a blacksmith in the art, but he was sure that some sort of magical used cauldrons must exist somewhere. It would only be a matter of time before he found one.

Wistfully, Severus imagined a life here, a life in the heart of the forest. Spending the remainder of his days in this strange world and creating nothing but potions and spells. He gave an almost undignified snort at the thought. As if that would ever happen. Still, his thoughts were all that he had to keep himself entertained.

Severus had spent a couple of weeks on his own until he had stumbled upon a village. He used his magic to spell temporary shelters around the forest and restocking on the natural supplies that the forest provided.  During this time, Severus had found himself at a clearing just at the end of the village. He didn’t have any money, but he was sure that he could create some gold that would even have the Goblins of Gringotts to look twice.

It would work for what it was worth, which would be for food and other supplies, Severus was sure. He doubts it would find itself out of this village which was very secluded, both in the mannerism of its occupants, but in its location as well. However, before Severus could follow the path that led to the village, he heard a small snort of a horse and its hooves meeting the earth.

With a wand at hand, Severus turned around quickly, aiming it in the kind, twinkling, blue eyes of an old man. For a split second, Severus felt his heart stop. Those eyes shined with mischief and mirth just like Dumbledore’s. They shared the same shade of blue that held a wisdom beyond his years and a familiarity that made Severus ache with guilt. But those eyes, no matter how similar they were, were not those of Albus Dumbledore. They were owned by an old man. He had a tall pointed blue hat, and a long grey cloak, and a silver scarf. He had a long white beard and bushy eyebrows that struck out beyond the brim of his hat.

His clothing alone told Severus everything. This man in front of him was a wizard. He could feel it around him, his magical signature that was both powerful and playful.  

For a moment, neither of them said a single word, merely watching the other.

Then, the unknown wizard released a deep chuckle. His eyes crinkled in laughter as he gazed upon the man in front of him. Severus’s frown deepen and his eyes narrowed in warning. His wand was still pointed at the wizard, but he never picked up his own wand nor did he seemed to mind Severus’s pointed at his face.

“Well,” began the wizard. His voice was thick and heavy. The smell of tobacco told Severus that it was from years of smoking. “I have no idea who you are, young lad. But you must be here for the party. Come to help me set up for the fireworks, I see.”

Severus had no idea what he was talking about, but before he could bite out a retort, a young man poked his head behind the wizard, hidden behind the packages that were rolled of a variety of color and shapes. At first, Severus had not seen him. He was overlooked by not only his height but because he possessed no presence that demanded attention.  Severus narrowed his eyes even more and was tempted to aim his wand at him as well, but the wizard seemed to extend his powers so that all the focus was on him and not the young man behind him.

The boy was small, almost like a child, but his features were that of a young man. He had curly, dark hair with soft pale skin and pale eyes. His clothing was old and worn from years of use but was taken care of. Severus wasn’t sure of who either of these men were, but as of now, only one was a possible threat.

But before Severus could say anything, the young man spoke.

“Gandalf, who is that man?” he asked gently. There was no fear in his eyes, just curiosity. His gaze was open and accepting, if not resembling a playful glint of a child.

“That right there, young Mr. Baggins, is a wizard.”

The one named Mr. Baggins had widened his eyes in wonderment. A smile grazed his features as he looked excitedly, both at ‘Gandalf’ and himself.

“Really, Gandalf? Another wizard! I had thought that there were no more wizards," cried Mr. Baggins in shock.

Severus was more confused than he was before, but he kept his eyes steady with the wizard in front of him. His eyes shared the curiosity of his young companion, but he remained silent.

After another beat of silence, Mr. Baggins called Gandalf's name once again before they broke out of their stupor. The old wizard smiled down at the man before sharing a smile at Severus as well.

“Well, come now. We don’t have much time before the party starts,” said Gandalf. He tapped the horse and the wagon began to move towards the village. He hummed a soft song and Severus watched with caution as they moved passed him. The young man spared him a glance, a smile still on his face, and Severus watched as they left.

Severus didn’t know who they were or this nonsense about fireworks and parties, but he was here now, and was given an invitation to continue.

Of course, Severus was not surprised that the old man was able to distinguish his heritage and power, but he did not like the look the man gave him. It reminded him too much of the same old coot from before.

With a deep sigh, Severus followed the wagon, trailing behind it like a shadow. He did not join in their talk or their jokes, much to the chagrin of the young Mr. Baggins.  

There were several other adults and young children of the same stature of the man next to the wizard that Severus later figured was the approximate size of these men here. Severus was of course used to his height, naturally with a tall form that towers over children, but at least they were children and not fully-grown adults. He also notices their feet. They were rather big, far bigger than what he has ever seen. They were thick and dirty with wildlife and hairs, unprotected from nature. He had not seen a single person other than Gandalf in front of him who seemed to own a pair of shoes, let alone socks. Severus looked away with a sneer that seemed to frighten the onlookers around them. Several of the children who had come to watch, gazing happily at the wizard in front of him. Some had even dared to look his way with curious glances, but a fierce glare had scared them away with screams. It brought him some pleasures that even here he still possesses his frightening mannerism that could scare the likes of many.

Before he knew it, they stopped in front of a small gate that stood in front of a large, round door inside the hill. A notice appeared on the gate: NO ADMITTANCE EXCEPT ON PARTY BUSINESS. Severus rose a brow in question but did not voice his thoughts. He watched silently as both of the riders exited the wagon and made their way passed the gate and into the door. Severus was not sure if he was allowed to follow or if he was free of these indulges and was allowed to continue his business as he pleased, but before he could make his escape, the young lad had returned to him and gazed up at him expectantly.

"You don't talk much do you," he asked, a smile on his face. Severus remained silent, proving his point. "Well, come on now. I have tea waiting for you in the kitchen."

With some encouragement, Severus followed Mr. Baggins into the small house.

The ceilings were very low and he had to crouched just the enter the house and stop himself from his hitting his head. Severus was pleased to find that Gandalf suffered the same and had smirked when Gandalf had hit his head against a chandelier. Severus was soon lead into a nice kitchen. The place was warm and bright with wood framing most of the structure. It was a lot better than the dirty and worm invested hole he was expecting.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," said the boy has he moved around the kitchen, preparing the tea set and offering a small plate of biscuits.

Severus sat down in the small chair before him and dropped his sack beside his feet. His wand was safely hidden in the sleeves of his white tunic.

Severus closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of flavors that reminded him of the wizarding world. He savored the rich, warm smell of tobacco, the sharp, sour tang of old ale, and the natural odor of herbs and spices. Beyond their rooms, he could hear movement and talk between Gandalf and another. Another man, far older than the one before him. Possibly his father? Severus was not sure, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Once the man was done, he poured a generous amount of tea into the cup and offered it to Severus. Nodding his head in thanks, Severus breathed in the smell of the bitter tea leaves to not only absorb the wondrous aroma but to also find any hidden substances. With none found, Severus took a deep gulp of the tea. The hot drink burned his tongue and throat, but it was a pain Severus took in gladly. The taste touched him and filled him warmth. He closed his eyes at the feeling. He never realized how much he missed tea.

The young man in front of him was holding his cup with both hands and watched Severus eagerly. His eyes traced every crook and wrinkle of his face, drinking in his features. When Severus opened his eyes, he watched as the boy blushed at being caught and hid his features by looking down bashfully and hid the curve of his smile behind the edge of the cup.

Severus remained silent and finished the rest of tea. His features remained stoic, only changing when he drank his tea or offered some sort of thanks when he was offered more tea.

“You’re very interesting you know,” began the boy. He was a bit restless, but he seemed to hold back. He tried to remain composed, but there was a childish nature in him that prevented him from succeeding. Severus found it amusing that someone was even remotely interested in him the way the young boy was. But of course, he was a stranger and was a wizard. It was not because of the magic, he was sure that he was exposed to it some way or another, but that wasn’t what seemed to draw him towards Severus.

“This whole time, you never spoke a word. We here, at the Shire, never really get any visitors, other than those that come to visit Bilbo of course,” he continued with a grin.  “But I have a feeling you’re not here for him, are you? I would’ve remembered you if you were a friend of Bilbo’s. But Gandalf seems to like you well enough, so you can’t be all bad.”

Severus found it funny at that, despite himself, and rose a brow in questioning.

“The children,” the boy elaborated. “You scared the whole lot of them faster than this small town’s gossip. You gave quite a fright to Mr. Jenkins.”

But of course, Severus did not answer verbally. He only offered a small quirk of the lip that was quickly hidden when he took another sip of his tea. However, before the boy could speak further, they were joined by Gandalf and whom Severus guessed was Bilbo.

Bilbo was, as he briefly saw, short just like the rest of the villagers. He had gray hairs and had a wrinkle face. Despite his obvious age, he seemed to be doing well and looked healthier than most. He must not have been over at least sixty years. His eyes were distrustful and he made a point of showing it, but there was also something else that Severus could not place. Nonetheless, he welcomed him to his home, sparing a glance at Gandalf in question. By the look they shared, this seemed to be a reoccurring thing between the two. Severus has a feeling that this isn’t the first time that Gandalf had invited strangers into Bilbo’s home.

As if reading his thoughts, Gandalf looked at him amused, but nothing was said further other than travels and the weather. It was pretty dull and very ordinary.  Severus continued to be silent, mostly offering vague gestures when the topic was sent in his direction, but they all soon realized he wouldn’t offer a verbal answer. They took it for what it was worth and didn’t pressure him. They let him keep his silence, but still tried to engage him the conversation as to not feel left out. However, it didn’t matter in the slightest since he didn’t know much of the land or the people who reside in it.

The conversation soon turned towards the upcoming party that would take place later tonight. It was, much to Severus’s surprise, to celebrate Bilbo’s 111th birthday. He was used to wizards living long lives, but this man was no wizard and he guessed that these Hobbits, as Gandalf described, lived long lives. But according the gossips of the villagers, the boy assured him that even Bilbo’s age was strange.

It was not long before the sun began to set and everyone was preparing for the festivities that will take place. The boy, or as Frodo as he was finally introduced, led him towards the washroom where he was allowed to rinse away the grime of the forest. Severus was not dirty, using his wand to clean the messes of nature, but even those spells could not offer the actually clean feeling that a good bath did.

Once he was done, he made himself some new clothes and stored the rest of his robes inside his sack. Keeping his wand close, Severus followed them towards the banks where the whole village seemed to lay as they wait for the beginning of the party.

There were several tents that were up and an especially large pavilion that was quite large, larger than that of the tree that was right inside it. There were lanterns that hung on its branches. There were several cooks that were trying to supplement the guests with food and drink. There were several odd folk and men, whom were still shorter than he, but much larger in mass and brawl strength than the hobbits. He had assumed that they were still hobbits but was corrected when Frodo told him that they were the dwarves, friends of Bilbo.

By the way, they spoke earlier, he had thought that it would be a party, but it was really a variety of entertainments rolled into one, something that he remembers Albus doing when he was feeling quite festive. There were hundreds of people. Practically everybody that was living nearby had been invited, and, by some extension, as was he.

Bilbo in all his glory stood at the front gates and greeted everyone that came and offered them all presents and sundry. All of the presents were mere trinkets, nothing expensive or so lavish by any means.

Much to his amusement, several of the children stayed away from him, remembering their earlier encounter and no doubt spread gossip during the day. However, despite his presence, they were completely taken by all of the toys that laid before them, many of which they had never seen before and some, Severus noticed, were magical. Frodo had told him they were premade a year before the celebration tonight by the dwarves.

Once inside the gate, there was songs, dances, music, games, and food and drink. There were several courses of meals throughout, far too much for Severus to take in. He watched both in disgust and awe at the amount that all of them seemed to eat and drink, putting Hagrid’s hunger streaks to shame. With lunch, tea, and dinner, the hobbits ate continuously from elevenses until six-thirty, up until the fireworks started.

To his displeasure, Severus found himself assistance Gandalf with the fireworks, if not because the old coot seemed to have the same power as Albus to force him to do anything, but if not to offer simple thanks for the hospitality that was offered to him. It was the force, Severus knew.

All of the fireworks were not only brought by Gandalf, but they were all designed and made by him. There were also several small generous distributions of squibs, crackers, backarappers, sparklers, torches, dwarf-candles, elf fountains, goblin-barkers and thunder-claps. Severus was to assist with passing them out, but very few dared come to him and ask for such things. Frodo laughed at the situation and ended helping Severus as to allow the villagers the joys that Gandalf had brought.

Soon dinner began and everyone ate plentiful, Severus holding out throughout most of it. Before long, Bilbo gave the dreaded speech that had most people on their toes, but by then, they were too far gone in the joys of the night to really care.

“My dear People,” began Bilbo, rising in his place. ‘Hear! Hear! Hear!’ they shouted, and kept on repeating it in chorus, seeming reluctant to follow their own advice. Bilbo left his place and went and stood on a chair under the illuminated tree. The light of the lanterns fell on his beaming face; the 38 the fellowship of the ring golden buttons shone on his embroidered silk waistcoat. They could all see him standing, waving one hand in the air, the other was in his trouser-pocket.

“My dear Bagginses and Boffins,” he began again; “and my dear Tooks and Brandybucks, and Grubbs, and Chubbs, and Burrowes, and Hornblowers, and Bolgers, Bracegirdles, Goodbodies, Brockhouses, and Proudfoots.”

‘Proudfeet!’ shouted an elderly hobbit from the back of the pavilion. His name, of course, was Proudfoot, and well merited; his feet were large, exceptionally furry, and both were on the table that had Severus sending him a look of complete disgust, much to the amusement of Frodo who sat beside him.

“Proudfoots,” repeated Bilbo. “Also, my good Sackville-Bagginses that I welcome back at last to Bag End. Today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday: I am eleventy-one today!”

‘Hurray! Hurray! Many Happy Returns!’ they shouted, and they hammered joyously on the tables. Bilbo was doing splendidly. This was the sort of stuff they liked: short and obvious.

“ I hope you are all enjoying yourselves as much as I am. Deafening cheers.” Cries of Yes (and No). Noises of trumpets and horns, pipes and flutes, and other musical instruments. There were, as has been said, many young hobbits present. Hundreds of musical crackers had been pulled. Most of them bore the mark dale on them; which did not convey much to most of the hobbits, but they all agreed they were marvelous crackers. They contained instruments, small, but of perfect make and enchanting tones. Indeed, in one corner some of the young Tooks and Brandybucks, supposing Uncle Bilbo to have finished (since he had plainly said all that was necessary), now got up an impromptu orchestra, and began a merry dance-tune. Master Everard Took and Miss Melilot Brandybuck got on a table and with bells in their hands began to dance the Springle-ring: a pretty dance, but rather vigorous. But Bilbo had not finished. Seizing a horn from a youngster nearby, he blew three loud hoots. The noise subsided.

“I shall not keep you long,” he cried. Cheers from all the assembly. “I have called you all together for a Purpose.” Something in the way that he said this made an impression. There was almost silence, and one or two of the Tooks pricked up their ears. “First of all, to tell you that I am immensely fond of you all, and that eleventy-one years is too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits. Tremendous outburst of approval. I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.”

There was some scattered clapping, but most of them were trying to work it out and see if it came to a compliment. Severus found the whole thing to be entertaining at their half-wit expressions. To keep himself from smiling, he bit the inside of cheek and pursed his lips.  He could almost like Bilbo for his wit.

“Secondly, to celebrate my birthday. Cheers again. I should say: OUR birthday. For it is, of course, also the birthday of my heir and nephew, Frodo. He comes of age and into his inheritance today.”

Some perfunctory clapping by the elders; and some loud shouts of ‘Frodo! Frodo! Jolly old Frodo,’ from the juniors. The Sackville-Bagginses scowled and wondered what was meant by ‘coming into his inheritance’.

“Together we score one hundred and forty-four. Your numbers were chosen to fit this remarkable total: One Gross, if I may use the expression.” No cheers. This was ridiculous. Many of the guests, and especially the Sackville-Bagginses, were insulted, feeling sure they had only been asked to fill up the required number, like goods in a package. ‘One Gross, indeed! Vulgar expression.’

“It is also, if I may be allowed to refer to ancient history, the anniversary of my arrival by barrel at Esgaroth on the Long Lake; though the fact that it was my birthday slipped my memory on that occasion. I was only fifty-one then, and birthdays did not seem so important. The banquet was very splendid, however, though I had a bad cold at the time, I remember, and could only say ‘thag you very much’. I now repeat it more correctly: Thank you very much for coming to my little party.”

Obstinate silence. They all feared that a song or some poetry was now imminent; and they were getting bored. Why couldn’t he stop talking and let them drink? But Bilbo did not stop and continued on.

“ _ANNOUNCEMENT,”_ he spoke this last word so loudly and suddenly that everyone sat up who still could. “I regret to announce that – though, as I said, eleventy-one years is far too short a time to spend among you – this is the END. I am going. I am leaving NOW. GOOD-BYE!”

He stepped down and vanished. There was a blinding flash of light, and the guests all blinked. When they opened their eyes, Bilbo was nowhere to be seen. One hundred and forty-four flabbergasted hobbits sat back speechless. It was no long before there were several cries of surprise, even Frodo had lost his mirth and was staring at the same place Bilbo had once stood. His complexion was pale and scared, but Severus did not notice for he too was staring at the same place that Bilbo had had once stood.

He had narrowed his eyes and grasped his wand at once. That was no simple illusion nor was it a spell. No hobbit he had unfortunately met had any magical abilities. Yet, Bilbo had done it. Severus was not blind and had of course saw him fiddling with a gold ring with his fingers throughout his speech. He thought nothing of it, other than a token used for anxiety or stress as he was giving a speech for a large crowd. But once he placed the ring on his finger, he had disappeared. That ring had a power that Severus knew not, but he knew that, after quick glance at Gandalf, Severus recognized a tired and fearful look that he’s seen on Albus’s face too many times, that it was not good. Soon Gandalf had disappeared.

Severus kept his eyes on Frodo who remained silent then on. He could not fight against the jokes or jeers they played on the table, laughing and enjoying the taste of wine, but his heart was not in it. With a quick glance from Frodo, Severus watched as he rose and order for more wine to be served and then he drained his glass and left. Severus was right behind him.

They walked silently, if not hurriedly by Frodo, but Bilbo was not there. Severus could read it clearly that it had upset Frodo that Bilbo had left without a trace nor was there a proper goodbye, but his feat was more of regretful understanding.

They found Gandalf sitting down by the fire. The wizard's face was grave and attentive and only a fear that Severus knew too well flickered deep in his eyes. Yet, when they had entered, he did not greet them immediately. His focuses was solely on that of the ring that Severus had seen before. A deep dread filled Severus. He knew not of the crisis or the darkness of this world, of course he knew they existed as they always had, but Severus did not wish to find himself face to face with it again. Yet, even here, he cannot escape such a path.

"Has he gone?" asked Frodo.

"Yes," answered Gandalf. "He has gone at last."

Severus removed himself from the room and entered the kitchen to make some tea and provide some privacy. This was not any of his concern. When the tea was done, Severus would gather his things and offer his thanks and leave. He will not be another pawn for the light or dark any longer.

But before Severus could escape, he found himself with a drink of whiskey with Gandalf.

"I know you know of the dangers that lie within the ring. To most, many cannot sense the evil within nor can they fight against the promises it spreads. Bilbo, as you know, has left on a journey and will not return. Frodo will remain the master of Bag End now. I know you owe all of us nothing, but there is an evil that will come that must be destroyed."

Severus took a deep breath and drank the whiskey in one go. He knew what Gandalf would ask of him as if he had a choice.

"I know what questions you have and what answers you seek, but I cannot confirm them nor can I deny them. However, I'm sure that you know, as well as I do, that you have a quest that must be fulfilled. And I am afraid to believe that you are here to help with the removal of the ring. I can sense a great power within you, Severus Snape."

Severus's head shot up at his name since he had not given it to anyone, not even Frodo who was most persistent.

"Yes, I know who you are and the dangers you had faced. I would not ask you of this if I did not think you were sent to be here for this reason."

Severus rubbed at his face tiredly. He did not dare listen to more to what Gandalf was saying for his body was worn and tired. He did not wish to continue with this task that the universe seems to damn him with. Had he not suffered enough? Had he not replenished his sins? What more must he give, sacrifice, for the greater good? Severus did not think he could handle this again. He lived through two wars and ended up dead in the last. How could Gandalf ask this of him if he knew the life he lived before, however he knew it. But when he gazed at the blue eyes of Gandalf, Severus felt his walls collapse. He could not. He _will_ not. But he _must_. Those eyes, that inspire as much hurt and guilt as Lily's, were the eyes of his mentor, a father. He had killed the greatest wizard in history. He casted the spell and watched as those eyes that were always so proud and filled with mirth become empty and dull. Now those same eyes, different as they are, were the same in many ways, and Severus knew that he could not deny him. The guilt within him would not allow him to refuse the wishes of a dead man. Swallowing thickly, Severus turned away and found himself looking at Frodo who had fallen asleep on the couch by the fire.

"The boy needs you," said Albus to him. It felt like years ago and it probably was. But he was not talking about Frodo, he was talking about Harry Potter. Yet, it seemed, no matter what, Severus was, and perhaps, will always will be the guide for the Chosen One whether he wanted to be or not. He must always be at the front of the war to stop the darkness from consuming the world like it had consumed him. Severus knew that he would not leave this night. He didn’t know what dangers that lurk ahead.

A deep, boiling anger would not leave him and it sparked the magic within him to tingle at his fingertips. A vase not too far away exploded with great force. He started heatedly and surprisingly at the remnants of the vase. He had not done accidental magic since he was child, but he could not control the anguish, defeat, and anger that lied within him. But Severus knew better than to fight fate. He knew that Gandalf was right. The answer he found was not what he wished, but it was what it was. He was here for this. To help Frodo on his journey to destroy the ring.

Sleep did not come quickly that night.

  



	3. What Faith Lies Ahead?

Severus rose from one of the spare beds in the guest room and made his way towards the kitchen where he found Frodo preparing breakfast with a variety of hams, cheeses, bread and fruit. There was already a pot of tea that laid on the table waiting for him and Severus helped himself to a cup. Frodo greeted him with a warm smile and continued with bustling around the kitchen up until he sat down and they enjoyed the smoke taste of the meet and tang of the cheese.

Never to do things lightly, Severus had already design himself to remain by Frodo's side as to make sure he was safe and to help with the troubles that would come. Unlike Potter, Frodo was very respectful and very warm with his greetings. Besides his childish mannerism, he was very polite and courteous as was he intelligent. Severus found him to be somewhat more tolerable than most and thought it best to be in the good graces of his host. 

With orders left by Frodo, people rose and began to clear away the pavilions and the tables and the chairs and all other utensils used for the party last night. Once it was done, Severus and Frodo returned to the hole for tea, but they were followed by a number of other people: Bagginses, and Boffins, and Bolgers, and Tooks, and other guests that lived or were staying near. By mid-day, when even the bestfed were out and about again, there was a large crowd at Bag End, uninvited but not unexpected.

Frodo was waiting on the steps, smiling, but was looking rather tired and worried. He welcomed all the callers and announced the leave of Mr. Bilbo Baggins and invited those that he left a message for to join him inside. Inside the hall, there was a pile of packages and parcels and small articles of furniture. Many of them were already labeled and ready to be given which Severus took the responsibility of passing them out. He also made sure to stop Adelard Took from carrying off anything that was not his or was left unlabelled.

While there were many things in his home, there were only a few things that were being given away but it had still removed the clutter that reside in the hole. Unknown to Severus, several of the presents were being given to make some sort of point or to offer some sort of joke. It was only clarified by Frodo when some givers looked at them strangely or angrily.

Despite the vast amount that was given, there was still plenty left for Frodo, far more than Severus had ever own in his life. And of course there were the precious books, pictures, and furniture.

It had gone on for most of the day, which was rather annoying since it could have been finished by mid afternoon if it wasn't for a nasty rumor that claimed that the whole household was being distributed for free. People from all over the Shire came bustling in who had no business there. Labels were torn off and quarrels broke out. People tried to steal things and even bargains were being made in the hallways and kitchen. In the midst of the commotion, Severus rose to full height. Well, as far as he could as to not hit his head, and glared at each and everyone of them.

The room had dropped to freezing levels and the room had darken like the night. His voice was not loud, but low that demanded attention and respect. Severus ordered anyone that was not supposed to be there to leave or they will find themselves in his next experiment. It was a threat that he usually used for his students who were being particularly annoying, but unlike them, they had no idea what he meant by experiment, but it was feared all the same. All of them soon rushed out and were quickly stopped when any one of them dared to take something that was not theirs. They were given such a fierce glare that many dare to not cross the man again.

The villagers gossiped quickly, deciding that the strange man was a killer and was sent by Bilbo to protect Frodo and his hidden treasure. It was best to not cross him, they knew. The rumor spread faster than the previous one and he and Frodo were finally left to their own devices. With a quick wave, everything was restored to where it was. A quick yelp from outside and swoosh of a hidden trinket flew back into its place to let Severus know that someone was successful in their stealth, but the trinket was restored.

By then, Frodo left the rest of the work under the watchful eyes of Severus and his dear friend Merry Brandybuck. It was not long before Sackville-Baggins came and demanded to see Frodo. Not even Severus's glare was able to discharge them from their stupidity and greedy desires and they continued to demand Frodo's presences. Merry left to warn Frodo as Severus was left to given them whatever it was that Bilbo had left for them.

To the amusement of both, Bilbo left a present of silver spoons for Lobelia Sackville-Baggins who Bilbo had mention several times the night before who had stolen several of his spoons on his former journey. Lobelia took the point at once and the angry look she gave was worth it if Bilbo was here to see it. They found it to be rather offensive. When they reached the study, Frodo looked indisposed to see them, but he spoke quite politely. They demanded and tried to bargain bad prices for things they desired around the house, but Frodo declined and told them that the only things they would receive would be that of what was left to them by Bilbo.

Otho, who was meant to be Bilbo's heir until the adoption of Frodo, read the will carefully. It was clear and correct and perfectly legal. Otho left quickly in a fit of anger, but Frodo and Severus found his wife searching the place high and low, in every crook and cranny. Severus escorted her firmly off the premises, but not after he had taken back the valuable articles that had magically fallen inside her umbrella.

She looked like she was about to retort something she felt was nasty and clever, but Severus was far more clever and nastier than she and she left soon after.

‘You’ll live to regret it, young fellow! Why didn’t you go too? You don’t belong here; you’re no Baggins – you – you’re a Brandybuck!’ she cried in the distance, far away from Severus, but, unknown, still close for his spells.

‘Did you hear that, Merry? That was an insult, if you like,’ said Frodo as he shut the door on her.

‘It was a compliment,’ said Merry Brandybuck, ‘and so, of course, not true.’

They dealt with a few more incidents and dealt with other hobbits that had searched for the legendary gold that was mysteriously obtain, yet not forgotten.

Soon Frodo demanded that they close the 'shop.' After refreshing, he returned to kitchen to make some tea. Right before he could sit down, there was a knock on the door. A quick flash of annoyance was present on his fate but it was washed away as he took a sip of his tea. The knocking persist, but was much louder than it was before. Suddenly, the wizard's head appeared at the window.

‘If you don’t let me in, Frodo, I shall blow your door right down your hole and out through the hill,’ he said.

‘My dear Gandalf! Half a minute!’ cried Frodo, running out of the room to the door. ‘Come in! Come in! I thought it was Lobelia.’

‘Then I forgive you. But I saw her some time ago, driving a pony-trap towards Bywater with a face that would have curdled new milk.’

‘She had already nearly curdled me. Honestly, I nearly tried on Bilbo’s ring. I longed to disappear.’

‘Don’t do that!’ said Gandalf, sitting down. ‘Do be careful of that ring, Frodo! In fact, it is partly about that that I have come to say a last word.’

‘Well, what about it?’

‘What do you know already?’

‘Only what Bilbo told me. I have heard his story: how he found it, and how he used it: on his journey, I mean.’

‘Which story, I wonder,’ said Gandalf.

‘Oh, not what he told the dwarves and put in his book,’ said Frodo. ‘He told me the true story soon after I came to live here. He said you had pestered him till he told you, so I had better know too. ‘No secrets between us, Frodo,’ he said; ‘‘but they are not to go any further. It’s mine anyway.’’

 ‘That’s interesting,’ said Gandalf. ‘Well, what did you think of it all?’

‘If you mean, inventing all that about a ‘‘present’’, well, I thought the true story much more likely, and I couldn’t see the point of altering it at all. It was very unlike Bilbo to do so, anyway; and I thought it rather odd.’

‘So did I. But odd things may happen to people that have such treasures – if they use them. Let it be a warning to you to be very careful with it. It may have other powers than just making you vanish when you wish to.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Frodo.

‘Neither do I,’ answered the wizard. ‘I have merely begun to wonder about the ring, especially since last night. No need to worry. But if you take my advice you will use it very seldom, or not at all. At least I beg you not to use it in any way that will cause talk or rouse suspicion. I say again: keep it safe, and keep it secret!’

‘You are very mysterious! What are you afraid of ?’

‘I am not certain, so I will say no more. I may be able to tell you something when I come back. I am going off at once: so this is good-bye for the present.’ He got up.

‘At once!’ cried Frodo. ‘Why, I thought you were staying on for at least a week. I was looking forward to your help.’

"I did not mean to but I will not change my mind. I will come and see you again, as soon as I can. Expect to see me. But do not fret, young Hobbit for Severus will be here with you while I am gone. He will help you."

Throughout this whole conversation, Severus watched silently, drinking his tea and helping himself to some biscuits. It was only when he was addressed did he catch the eyes of Frodo. With a nod from Gandalf, Severus rose. Both he and Frodo walked him to the door. He gave a final wave of his hand and made his way out the shire. They did not see him again for a long time.

 


	4. Waiting for Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments and Kudos are greatly appreciated.

With Mr. Bilbo Baggins gone, talk of him did not. His whereabouts were discussed in Hobbiton and were especially a hot topic in the Shire. The most popular story of every evening and the most absurd to Severus was the legendary tale of the Mad Baggins who would vanish with a bang and a flash and would reappear with bags of jewels and gold.

From the stories that Frodo told him of Bilbo’s adventures towards the mountain with a dragon and an endless cavern of gold, it was probably the most correct story made yet. However, the true events were either never shared or were long forgotten by the Shire and the only ones who seem to know the truth was Frodo and now himself. Nonetheless, he found it rather annoying that they would listen and stretch the stories to make Bilbo a fool for their own amusement for things that they don’t really understand. Of course, living in the Shire, Severus supposed that they never really had a care or worry in their lives. They needed to worry about what lays beyond their borders. The most fearful, or the most anticipated thing, was what was going to be served for supper.

But those fairytales did not provide a reason as to why Bilbo was gone now. Many of the older hobbits, while they gushed and gossiped of the tales, believed that Mr. Bilbo Baggins had finally cracked and had gone quite mad and had run off into the Blue where he had undoubtedly fallen into a pool or river and met his end. It was all Hogwash, Severus told Frodo, but Frodo would not listen. There was always a pale and sickening fear that would grace his features when he heard such rumors about Bilbo. It did not help that many of the hobbits blamed Bilbo's fate on Gandalf who they had not heard from for such a long time.

The disappearance of Gandalf was not forgotten by the shire, but many seem to aim their rumors towards Severus given his absence. He did not care for such things and found their stories to be quiet boring. At least his students were able to create more interesting stories about him even if they were unoriginal. No one, to Severus’s surprise, mentioned him as a bat, but that was probably because he no longer wore his billowing black robes. Frodo had eventually bought him clothing, which Severus had denied since he was more than capable of making his own or even buying his own, but Frodo had insisted since he had far more money than he knew what to deal with it.

His clothing was very different than what Severus was used to. He was now in a possession of earthy colored tunics, doublets, robes, cloaks, and loose breeches. All of which was more for comfort than it was for work since neither needed to work. Severus had wished for more darker colors, but Frodo had insisted and he didn't deny the obvious gift that was being offered to him.

The only thing that Severus wished he had was another pair of boots, but as Severus learned early on, none of the residents of the shire or of Hobbiton wore shoes of any kind. His worked well on their own, but they would soon be worn through and he would need another pair. He could, of course, make his own, but it would be much better to simply have them made by a shoemaker from one of the villages of men. Severus was pleased to know that there existed other races within Middle Earth, including Muggles.

Bilbo kept a variety of books that he left for Frodo and Severus was all too eager to read them. He was very much an avid reader. There were none of the potions or the dark arts, which Severus had somewhat hoped existed but was disappointed to find none. The rich history of Middle Earth was grand and plentiful. There existed several creatures that were found here that also exist back on earth, but hardly did they share the same characteristics.

At night, Severus and Frodo would share meals and each other's company by the fire with Frodo either telling stories or Severus reading one of the books. Sometimes they would indulge in some drinking of ale or wine. It was comfortable and pleasant. Severus had never believed that he could live such a peaceful life such as this. There were no worries or dangers other than the dreadful gossip of the Shire. But Severus could not fool himself. He could sense the darkness coming. He could hear it on the wind, taste it in the water, and feel it in the earth. He had already set protective wards around Frodo's hole and had spent months placing some around the Shire, but it would not be enough.

Severus watched as Frodo fiddled with the ring in the same fashion that Bilbo did. Frodo never dared to put on the ring as he had promised Gandalf, but Severus feared that his childish curiosity would get the better of him soon enough. Severus knew that they must wait for Gandalf for directions and orders, but if he did not come soon, then Severus will take Frodo and they would run to the forest. The dangers that lurked every night were coming closer and closer. No matter how powerful he was, Severus was not foolish enough to believe that he could protect the whole village for what will come ahead. He could, however, protect Frodo and himself for quite a long time, but he could not do it forever. It was only a matter of time before the darkness came. 

 

* * *

 

 

In a few weeks, it would finally be one year since Bilbo's leaving and Frodo was preparing a party in honor of Bilbo's one hundred-and-twelve birthday, which he called a Hundredweight Feast. Many of the hobbits had now believed that Bilbo's oddity had been transferred to Frodo. To many, it was surprising that Frodo kept up the tradition of celebrating Bilbo's birthday, but it was far from the grand parties that they remembered. But they got used to it after he celebrated it year after year.

When they asked, Frodo told them that he didn't believe he was dead. But Severus knew that Frodo feared that he was and spent those days celebrating hoping to forget.

Frodo, obviously, did not live alone which had separated him from Bilbo. Severus lived with him and much to his displeasure, he learned to live with all of the friends that came with living with Frodo. They were younger hobbits whom Frodo had known from Bilbo such as Folco Boffin and Fredegar Bolger, but his closest friends were Peregrin Took, or Pippin as he preferred, and Merry Brandybucks, or Meriadoc as he likes people to forget. He would leave his hole, offer an invitation towards Severus who always denied, and left with the two until late in the evening. They spent their time drinking and goofing off has young adults do, but Frodo mostly spent his days by himself or with Severus in his home. But there were some nights when he would walk alone towards the hills and woods. Nobody knew where he went on those nights, but Merry and Pippin suspected that he visited the Elves just like Bilbo had done.

It had sparked some worry from Severus, but he never followed him. He understands the need to be alone and the comforts the night offered that people could never. He knew Frodo was protected. He placed protective charms on him every time before he left, but there were things that Severus could not protect him from.

At first, it was not noticeable. Sometimes Frodo would look very tired and bags would lay beneath his eyes from a restless sleep. They were short in numbers and far in between and neither of them thought anything of it. But it soon began to happen more frequently as time went on. He had strange visions and dreams of mountains that he had never seen before. Severus was itching to make some potions since he first came to Middle earth, especially because nightmares of Albus's death and Nagini had threatened him almost every nightfall, but he did not have the tools or ingredients to do so. It pained him to give up his passion of potion making, but he was able to deal with the pains and guilt that clung to him so in a healthier manner, but Frodo was not so lucky.

The nightmares continued on until he reached his fifties and Severus had then found himself to be sixty-two by the beginning of the new year; however, Severus looked the same as the day he first came. He didn't look a day older, but Frodo often remarked that he appeared to look younger than he did before. Severus supposed that the stress of the war and his years as a spy were no longer threatening his life and were finally able to just live his days in peace. His years here were very relaxing, but he did not think that simple tranquility would offer immortality.

By the time it reached Frodo's fifty-fifth birthday, Severus knew that Frodo was waiting for something to occur, something magical and extraordinary that left him feeling restless. Severus knew what was bothering him, a sense of adventure was gnawing at him from within. He rolled his eyes and muttered into his cup of Gryffindor's dangerous tendencies. But as much as he jeered at the thought, he knew that something was amiss.

Frodo's adventures at night happened more frequently and Severus shared the same anxiety as his friends did when he would venture further and further pass the borders of the shire. He was often found to be spending his time walking and talking with stranger wayfarers that would appear in the shire for trade and rest. Severus was never quite sure what they talked about, but Severus knew that Frodo was hoping to hear some words about Bilbo or Gandalf. Anything really would be useful so Severus never said anything to him. Frodo had always seemed to be disappointed if not worried about the information he had gathered.

It did not help that there were rumors of strange things happening in the outside world. It only got worse since Gandalf had yet to send word through the years he’s been gone. There were elves that would rarely pass by towards the west and sea, but would never return. There were dwarves that traveled on the road in unusual numbers. They were venturing towards the Blue Mountains. The dwarves, in respect for Bilbo, were often the ones who provided Frodo with news from distance parts. There was trouble and there were talks of an Enemy and the Land of Mordor.

It was a place that the hobbits only knew in legends of a dark past, long forgotten in nature, but feared all the same. The darkness that once loomed over them had disappeared but it had returned in greater strength and threaten to take over once again. Their powers were far and wide and raids were happening more frequently and fear was growing. The dangers of the world were growing stronger and it filled Severus with dread. He recognized the signs, he lived through them twice. A war was blossoming and it will soon claim the lives of those in its path.

Even though those rumors made their way to the shire more frequently, many of the residents laughed and joked at the stories, but Frodo knew better.

There were several stories that many of them did not believe. There were some that were far too unlikely that it even had Severus doubtful at times.  But Severus knew that stories and fables stemmed from some truth. Stories they may be, but only an idiot would ignore them. Severus took these stories in the same fashion that Frodo did: completely unsure, but it was not dismissed entirely.  That is why it was quite refreshing to find that Sam Gamgee was not a complete idiot like the rest.

Sam was sitting in one corner near the fire with Ted Sandyman, the miller's son, who sat below him on the floor and rug. Severus sat on the armchair on the other side of the room with Frodo sitting beside his legs. There were other rustic hobbits sitting across the couch or floor as they listened to their talk. Normally, Severus would not be there, often hiding in his rooms to read or sleep, but he had become restless as well and had decided to join them for this one night, if not for a drink.

“Queer things you do hear these days, to be sure,” said Sam.

“Ah,” said Ted, “you do if you listen. But I can hear fireside tales and children’s stories at home if I want to.”

“No doubt you can,” retorted Sam, “and I daresay there’s more truth in some of them than you reckon. Who invented the stories anyway? Take dragons now.”

“No thank ’ee,’ said Ted, “I won’t. I heard tell of them when I was a youngster, but there’s no call to believe in them now. There’s only one Dragon in Bywater, and that’s Green,” he said, getting a general laugh.

“All right,” said Sam, laughing with the rest. “But what about these Tree-men, these giants, as you might call them? They do say that one bigger than a tree was seen up away beyond the North Moors not long back.”

“Who’s they?”

“My cousin Hal for one. He works for Mr. Boffin at Overhill and goes up to the Northfarthing for the hunting. He saw one.”

“Says he did, perhaps. Your Hal’s always saying he’s seen things, and maybe he sees things that ain’t there.’

“But this one was as big as an elm tree, and walking – walking seven yards to a stride if it was an inch.”

“Then I bet it wasn’t an inch. What he saw was an elm tree, as like as not.”

“But this one was walking, I tell you, and there ain’t no elm tree on the North Moors."

“Then Hal can’t have seen one,” said Ted. There was some laughing and clapping: the audience seemed to think that Ted had scored a point, Severus rolled his eyes at their humor.

“All the same,” said Sam, “you can’t deny that others besides our Halfast have seen queer folk crossing the Shire – crossing it, mind you: there are more that are turned back at the borders. The Bounders have never been so busy before. And I’ve heard tell that Elves are moving west. They do say they are going to the harbors, out away beyond the White Towers.” Sam waved his arm vaguely: neither he nor any of them knew how far it was to the Sea, past the old towers beyond the western borders of the Shire. But it was an old tradition that away over there stood the Grey Havens, from which at times elven-ships set sail, never to return. “They are sailing, sailing, sailing over the Sea, they are going into the West and leaving us,” said Sam, half chanting the words, shaking his head sadly and solemnly. But Ted laughed.

Severus, at that moment, knew that while Sam was very much a hobbit, he actually had a brain and immediately became a new favorite. He had always liked Sam, the moment he met him. A little awkward and shy, but just as polite and friendly as Frodo. Severus suspected he frighten him a little, but he never acted against him negatively.

“Well, that isn’t anything new, if you believe the old tales. And I don’t see what it matters to me or you. Let them sail! But I warrant you haven’t seen them doing it, nor anyone else in the Shire.”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Sam thoughtfully.

Frodo remained quiet during the talk, but Severus could read him easily. They both knew where the elves were going. There was only one place they would journey towards and never return. Valinor, the Undying lands, across the sea to the west. They were leaving middle earth to venture away from the dangers that were coming. If a single hobbit were to think of not who was leaving or where they were going but to think as to why then maybe they would finally understand the dangers that lied head. They were leaving out of fear; fear of what? Something dangerous and evil, Severus was sure, but he did not have the answer. But someone who did was rushing towards them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it might seem be a bit boring with the first few chapters, but Gandalf is finally returning in the next chapter so the journey will begin shortly. I am very excited for when Severus meets Aragon and Legolas, not to mention that he was to watch over the hobbits like the students he did before, but that might not happen for another chapter or two.


	5. Legends Foretold

Gandalf contacted them somewhat infrequently in the beginning, never staying too long. Three years after the Party, he visited Frodo for the briefest moments, taking one good look at him, and then he was gone again. He was always very interested in Frodo's health and in his dreams and always asked him questions about them. Once Frodo was finished, he smoked the last of the tobacco and left.

He would come every now and then at dusk and leave before dawn, never telling either one of them what he was doing or where he has been. It unnerved Severus to be a sitting duck, but with one look from Gandalf had him biting his tongue. Sometimes, when Frodo had gone to bed, Severus wouldn't be able to fight against it any longer and would demand answers from Gandalf, but the old man never answered a single question. He always told him the same thing, to watch over Frodo while he was gone, and he would leave them again for who knows how long.

But as time went on, Gandalf's visits did not. They had suddenly ceased. It had been over nine years since they had last heard from him and Frodo was beginning to think that they might never hear from him again, fearing he had no interest in Frodo or the shire any more. But that evening, as Sam was walking home, there came a familiar tap on the study window.

Severus opened the door and Frodo welcomed his old friend with surprise and great delight.

"All well eh?" said Gandalf. "You look the same as ever, Frodo!"

"So do you," Frodo replied; but secretly, Severus knew, he thought that Gandalf looked older and more careworn. He reminded Severus of Albus's last years at Hogwarts when he was in deep thought of the war, keeping secrets about Harry and the Dark Lord from everyone, including himself.

Once Frodo had set a pot of tea and offered tobacco to Gandalf, he pressed him for news of himself and of the world, and soon they were deep in talk, and they stayed up far into the night.

As much as Severus liked Gandalf, he did not share the companionship that they did and often left them alone. Frodo spend years waiting to hear from Gandalf and he wanted to enjoy all the time he could when the wizard came. At least then, Frodo can obtain some sense. With Gandalf near, it always made him feel assured and not so scared. Severus understood the feeling and never interrupted, always remaining silent in the back or leaving entirely,  allowing them to enjoy their time with one another. Frodo would always brief him when Gandalf was gone. But when Severus rose in the morning, he did not find Frodo in the kitchen nor were Gandalf's things gone. They had remained in the room he left them in last night, deep in conversation.

It was only when Severus had entered the room did they finally realized that they spent the whole night talking. Frodo apologized for not setting breakfast and was about to rush towards the  kitchen, but Severus waved his hand and food began to float towards them. It was a light breakfast of fruit, meats, cheese, jams, and bread. Frodo's eyes widen in surprise, even after all these years with living with Severus, it never removed that childish joy and awe of magic that Frodo continued to have. Severus left them to go make tea and returned to join them for a late breakfast.

It was quiet all morning since then. Neither Gandalf nor Frodo said a word to him about what had transpired last night. It was something big, but neither thought it best to talk about it now and spent the morning mulling over it in silence.

Severus didn't like not knowing things but when he received a look from Gandalf, he took a sip of tea and waited for when they would tell him.

When they had finished, they sat by the open window of the study with a bright fire on the hearth. The sun was out and a warm breeze would enter through the window from the south. It was the heart of spring and the land was freshly green, shimmering with dew, and filled with crops and flowers.

Gandalf was smoking in silence and Frodo sat still, deep in thought, but he soon broke the silence.

"Last night you began to tell me strange things about my ring, Gandalf," he said. "And then you stopped, because you said that such matters were best left until daylight. Don’t you think you had better finish now? You say the ring is dangerous, far more dangerous than I guess. In what way?"

"In many ways," answered the wizard. "It is far more powerful than I ever dared to think at first, so powerful that in the end it would utterly overcome anyone of mortal race who possessed it. It would possess him."

That alone had Severus sitting straight, full attention on both of them. He feared that the ring was like the horcruxes, but according to Gandalf, it was far worse than that.

"In Eregion long ago many Elven-rings were made, magic rings as you call them, and they were, of course, of various kinds: some more potent and some less. The lesser rings were only essays in the craft before it was full-grown, and to the Elven-smiths they were but trifles – yet still to my mind dangerous for mortals. But the Great Rings, the Rings of Power, they were perilous.

"A mortal, Frodo, who keeps one of the Great Rings, does not die, but he does not grow or obtain more life, he merely continues, until at last every minute is a weariness. And if he often uses the Ring to make himself invisible, he fades: he becomes in the end invisible permanently, and walks in the twilight under the eye of the Dark Power that rules the Rings Yes, sooner or later – later, if he is strong or well-meaning to begin with, but neither strength nor good purpose will last – sooner or later the Dark Power will devour him."

"How terrifying!" said Frodo. There was another long silence. The sound of Sam Gamgee cutting the lawn came in from the garden.

"How long have you known this?" asked Frodo at length. "And how much did Bilbo know?"

"Bilbo knew no more than he told you, I am sure," said Gandalf. "He would certainly never have passed on to you anything that he thought would be dangerous, even though I promised to look after you. He thought the ring was very beautiful, and very useful at need; and if anything was wrong or queer, it was himself. He said that it was ‘growing on his mind’, and he was always worrying about it; but he did not suspect that the ring itself was to blame. Though he had found out that the thing needed looking after; it did not seem always of the same size or weight; it shrank or expanded in an odd way, and might suddenly slip off a finger where it had been tight."

"Yes, he warned me of that in his last letter," said Frodo, "so I have always kept it on its chain."

"Very wise," said Gandalf. "But as for his long life, Bilbo never connected with the ring at all. He took all the credit for that to himself, and he was very proud of it. Though he was getting restless and uneasy. Thin and stretched he said. A sign that the ring was getting control."

"How long have you known all this?" asked Frodo again.

"Known?" said Gandalf. "I have known much that only the Wise know, Frodo. But if you mean ‘known about this ring’, well, I still do not know, one might say. There is a last test to make. But I no longer doubt my guess. When did I first begin to guess?" he mused, searching back in memory.

"Let me see – it was in the year that the White Council drove the Dark Power from Mirkwood, just before the Battle of Five Armies, that Bilbo found his ring. A shadow fell on my heart then, though I did not know yet what I feared. I wondered often how Gollum came by a Great Ring, as plainly it was – that at least was clear from the first. Then I heard Bilbo’s strange story of how he had ‘won’ it, and I could not believe it. When I at last got the truth out of him, I saw at once that he had been trying to put his claim to the ring beyond doubt. Much like Gollum with his ‘birthday present’. The lies were too much alike for my comfort. Clearly the ring had an unwholesome power that set to work on its keeper at once. That was the first real warning I had that all was not well. I told Bilbo often that such rings were better left unused; but he resented it, and soon got angry. There was little else that I could do. I could not take it from him without doing greater harm; and I had no right to do so anyway. I could only watch and wait. I might perhaps have consulted Saruman the White, but something always held me back."

"Who is he?" asked Frodo. "I have never heard of him before."

"Maybe not," answered Gandalf. "Hobbits are, or were, no concern of his. Yet he is great among the Wise. He is the chief of my order and the head of the Council. His knowledge is deep, but his pride has grown with it, and he takes ill in any meddling. The lore of the Elven-rings, great and small, is his province. He has long studied it, seeking the lost secrets of their making; but when the Rings were debated in the Council, all that he would reveal to us of his ring-lore fought against my fears. So my doubt slept – but uneasily. Still I watched and I waited.

"And all seemed well with Bilbo. And the years passed. Yes, they passed, and they seemed not to touch him. He showed no signs of age. The shadow fell on me again. But I said to myself: ‘‘After all he comes of a long-lived family on his mother’s side. There is time yet. Wait!’

"And I waited. Until that night when he left this house. He said and did things then that filled me with a fear that no words of Saruman could allay. I knew at last that something dark and deadly was at work. And I have spent most of the years since then in finding out the truth of it.”

“There wasn’t any permanent harm done, was there” asked Frodo anxiously. “He would get all right in time, wouldn’t he? Be able to rest in peace, I mean?”

“He felt better at once,” said Gandalf. “But there is only one Power in this world that knows all about the Rings and their effects; and as far as I know there is no Power in the world that knows all about hobbits. Among the Wise I am the only one that goes in for hobbit-lore: an obscure branch of knowledge, but full of surprises. Soft as butter they can be, and yet sometimes as tough as old tree-roots. I think it likely that some would resist the Rings far longer than most of the Wise would believe. I don’t think you need worry about Bilbo.

“Of course, he possessed the ring for many years, and used it, so it might take a long while for the influence to wear off – before it was safe for him to see it again, for instance. Otherwise, he might live on for years, quite happily: just stop as he was when he parted with it. For he gave it up in the end of his own accord: an important point. No, I was not troubled about dear Bilbo any more, once he had let the thing go. It is for _you_ that I feel responsible.

“Ever since Bilbo left I have been deeply concerned about you, and about all these charming, absurd, helpless hobbits. It would be a grievous blow to the world, if the Dark Power overcame the Shire; if all your kind, jolly, stupid Bolgers, Hornblowers, Boffins, Bracegirdles, and the rest, not to mention the ridiculous Bagginses, became enslaved.” Frodo shuddered.

“But why should we be?” he asked. “And why should he want such slaves?”

“To tell you the truth,” replied Gandalf, “I believe that hitherto – hitherto, mark you – he has entirely overlooked the existence of hobbits. You should be thankful. But your safety has passed. He does not need you – he has many more useful servants – but he won’t forget you again. And hobbits as miserable slaves would please him far more than hobbits happy and free. There is such a thing as malice and revenge.”

“Revenge?” said Frodo. “Revenge for what? I still don’t understand what all this has to do with Bilbo and myself, and our ring.”

“It has everything to do with it,” said Gandalf. “You do not know the real peril yet; but you shall. I was not sure of it myself when I was last here; but the time has come to speak. Give me the ring for a moment.”

During this time, Severus listen attentively to the words of Gandalf. The ring was lively and could influence the mind of its master. It was a cursed object in several ways, but the magic that created the ring, was not created by any witch or wizard. It was wholesome in darkness and evilness. The Dark Lord and his horcruxes had dark magic in them, created from death and his own wretched soul, but that ring was created by darkness for darkness. It would have no master. And if it was anything like the horcruxes, the evil within would not easily be destroyed. Severus knew Gandalf’s powers were great, but he knew that not even he could destroy it with his power alone.

Severus watched Frodo with a look that almost resembled fear. Frodo took the ring out from his breeches-pocket, where it was clasped onto a chain that hung from his belt. He unhooked it and gave it to Gandalf, but he seemed to have trouble giving it to him.

Gandalf did not touch the ring directly, but he watched it closely. The ring, as plain as it was, was something remarkable. It was made of pure, solid gold. To think, something so simple and ordinary held such great power, dark power.

"Were there any markings on it," asked Gandalf.

"No," Said Frodo. "There are none. It is quite plain, and it never shows a scratch or sign of wear."

To the astonishment of both Severus and Frodo, Gandalf threw the ring into the middle of the fire. Frodo gave a cry and ran towards the flames with tongs, but Gandalf held him back.

"Wait!" He said, but nothing came. After a moment, Gandalf rose and shut the shutters and ordered Severus to draw the curtains. The room was completely dark and silent with the exception of Sam working in the gardens. With a final look, Gandalf took the tongs from Frodo's hands and grabbed the ring and placed it on Frodo’s palm.

"It is quiet cool," said Gandalf and he ordered Frodo to look at it closely. And Frodo did. Both Severus and Gandalf watched, waiting. Glowing marking reflected upon Frodo, but Severus did not recognize them.

"I cannot read them," said Frodo.

"No," said Gandalf, "but I can. The letters are Elvish, of an ancient mode, but he language is that of mordor, which I will not utter here. But this in the Common Tongue is what is said close enough: _One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them."_

"It is part of a long known Elven-lore," he told them.

_‘Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky, Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die, One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie. One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.’_

Gandalf's face was grave and he looked beyond his years in that moment. And then, slowly, in a deep voice, he continued. "This is the Master-ring, the One Ring to rule them all. This is the One Ring that he lost many ages ago, to the great weakening of his power. He greatly desires it, but he must not get it."

Severus had no idea who he was talking about, but the fear of the unknown master filled him all the same. Frodo was motionless as he held the ring in his hand. There were questions running wild in both of their heads, there was so much they wanted to know, needed to know, but Gandalf assured them that they didn't. It would keep them there until next spring if they tried, but they did not have the luxury to offer such time for stories that have long been forgotten. But there was one thing they must know.

"Last night I told you of Sauron the Great, the Dark Lord. The rumours that you have heard are true: he has indeed arisen again and left his hold in Mirkwood and returned to his ancient fastness in the Dark Tower of Mordor. That name even you hobbits have heard of, like a shadow on the borders of old stories. Always after a defeat and a respite, the Shadow takes another shape and grows again."

Gandalf spared Severus a glance, but he did not see it. Severus had sat down into his seat, clasping his heads against his mouth, watching the flames flicker. There was pain on his face and he felt it throughout his whole being. Another Dark Lord has risen once again and it was up to Frodo, he knew, to defeat him and his ring. It was a repeat of the world that he had left behind and if the words that Gandalf told him at the end of the Party were true, then Severus was to help him do it.

Layers of stress and stiffness had taken Severus like a cloak and weighed upon him heavily. At this moment, he felt his age and nearly felt tears threaten to take his sight, but he fought against them harshly. He was given a moment of rest when Gandalf was gone, but that will no longer be the case now. Severus knew what Gandalf was thinking.

Severus looked at Frodo and he reminded him so much of Harry Potter.

As much as he hated him for his looks and the constant reminder of his failures and his hatred, Severus thought he could never care for the boy, but that did not stop him from helping him or saving him time and time again. If though he was so sure he hated the boy, his heart still stopped in fear when he had to watch Potter fight dragons or face the wrath of the Dark Lord or his Death Eaters. He never thought much of it, but he supposed that Albus was right and that he had grown to care for the boy. He did not deserve to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He fought valiantly as any Gryffindor would with good intentions and heart of gold that he's seen in Lily's eyes, but he did not deserve to die like a pig for slaughter. Oh how Lily must hated him then, to protect her only son just for him to die. To this day, Severus had not forgiven himself for the death of Lily or that of James, as much as he hated the man and wished him dead during their times at Hogwarts, but his greatest defeat was not the death of Albus, but that of Harry. And now, the universe was asking him again to help a boy to defeat evil and protect the world. Severus knew he would do it, as he must, but he did not think he could bare the weight if Frodo's fate was meant to be the same as Harry's. He had failed too many times in his previous life and he did not dare to think that he would have to do the same.

"I wish it not have happened in my time," said Frodo.

"So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us. And already, Frodo, our time is beginning to look black. The Enemy is fast becoming very strong. His plans are far from ripe, I think, but they are ripening.

"The Enemy still lacks one thing to give him strength and knowledge to beat down all resistance, break the last defences, and cover all the lands in a second darkness. He lacks the One Ring.

"The Three, fairest of all, the Elf-lords hid from him, and his hand never touched them or sullied them. Seven the Dwarf-kings possessed, but three he has recovered, and the others the dragons have consumed. Nine he gave to Mortal Men, proud and great, and so ensnared them.

“Long ago they fell under the dominion of the One, and they became Ringwraiths, shadows under his great Shadow, his most terrible servants. Long ago. It is many a year since the Nine walked abroad. Yet who knows? As the Shadow grows once more, they too may walk again. But come! We will not speak of such things even in the morning of the Shire.

"So it is now: the Nine he has gathered to himself; the Seven also, or else they are destroyed. The Three are hidden still. But that no longer troubles him. He only needs the One; for he made that Ring himself, it is his, and he let a great part of his own former power pass into it, so that he could rule all the others. If he recovers it, then he will command them all again, wherever they be, even the Three, and all that has been wrought with them will be laid bare, and he will be stronger than ever.

"And this is the dreadful chance, Frodo. He believed that the One had perished; that the Elves had destroyed it, as should have been done. But he knows now that it has not been perished, that it has been found. So he is seeking it, seeking it, and all of his thoughts is bent on it. It is his great hope and our great fear "

"But why was it not destroyed," asked Severus. "If anyone was given the chance, they must have destroyed it, yet it still lies here in this world. Why?"

But Gandalf did not answer him.

"What both of you need to know is not why it wasn't destroyed, it has happened long ago and does not help us now, nor do you need to know how it was taken from him, but how this thing came to you," he said as looked at Frodo.

"The ring has had several masters in the past, but none of them had ever truly ruled the ring except for Sauron, its one true master. The ring looks after itself, slipping treacherously off, but never abandon. The ring had left Gollum in hopes of finding its master. The ring, with all its power, wants nothing more than to return to its true master. The ring left Gollum and by a remarkable chance, it was picked up by the mostly unlikely person imaginable: Bilbo from the Shire!

"I believe that Bilbo was meant to find the ring which means that you were meant to have it. I have come back from dark journeys and I am sure that that the ring in your hand is the One Ring. Gollum did not know the importance of the ring, he only cared to possess it. He had gone by several means to reach it, traveling as close as he could to the Shire to reclaim it, but he never got close enough."

"How did he know it was here," asked Frodo.

"Well, that might be because Bilbo had told him himself, the fool. But while it had been years since he had last held the ring, the sick desire to have it did not leave him. He desires it through every passing day and goes more mad without it. He has taken any means to reclaim it, even sharing the whereabouts of the Ring. He had gone to the Land of Mordor."

A heavy silence fell in the room. There was no sound, not even Sam's shears could be heard now.

"Yes to the Land of Mordor and through him the Enemy has learned that the One Ring has been found again and knows where he needs to go to reclaim it: the Shire. He may be seeking it now, knowing the name Baggins."

"I wish he had never found it, and that I had not got it! Why did you let me keep it? Why didn’t you make me throw it away, or, or destroy it?" cried Frodo.

"Let you? Make you?" said the wizard. "Haven’t you been listening to all that I have said? You are not thinking of what you are saying. But as for throwing it away, that was obviously wrong. These Rings have a way of being found. In evil hands it might have done great evil. Worst of all, it might have fallen into the hands of the Enemy. Indeed it certainly would; for this is the One, and he is exerting all his power to find it or draw it to himself.

"Of course, my dear Frodo, it was dangerous for you; and that has troubled me deeply. But there was so much at stake that I had to take some risk – though even when I was far away there has never been a day when the Shire has not been guarded by watchful eyes. As long as you never used it, I did not think that the Ring would have any lasting effect on you, not for evil, not at any rate for a very long time. And you must remember that nine years ago, when I last saw you, I still knew little for certain.’"

"But why not destroy it, as you say should have been done long ago?" cried Frodo again. "If you had warned me, or even sent me a message, I would have done away with it."

"Would you? How would you do that? Have you ever tried?"

"No. But I suppose one could hammer it or melt it."

"Try!" said Gandalf. "Try now!"

But when Frodo gazed at it, he found it very hard to let it go and have it destroyed. Gandalf’s laughed was bitter and hallow.

"Even you Frodo cannot easily let it go or destroy it. Even if you did struck it with a heavy sledge-hammer, it would make no dent it. It cannot be unmade by your hands or by mine. It was said that dragon fire possess the power to destroy the ring, but there are no dragons left. There is only one way to destroy the ring: to find the Cracks of Doom in the depths of Orodruin, the Fire-mountain, and cast the Ring in there, if you really wish to destroy it, to put it beyond the grasp of the Enemy forever."

"I do really wish to destroy it!’ cried Frodo and Severus knew he did. "Or, well, to have it destroyed. I am not made for perilous quests. I wish I had never seen the Ring! Why did it come to me? Why was I chosen?"

"Such questions cannot be answered,’ said Gandalf.  Severus had heard Albus say the same to Harry, it did not provide assurance or comfort then and it did not do it here. "You may be sure that it was not for any merit that others do not possess: not for power or wisdom, at any rate. But you have been chosen, and you must therefore use such strength and heart and wits as you have."

"But I have so little of any of these things! You are wise and powerful. Will you not take the Ring?"

"No!" cried Gandalf, springing to his feet. “With that power I should have power too great and terrible. And over me the Ring would gain a power still greater and more deadly.” His eyes flashed and his face was lit as by a fire within. “Do not tempt me! For I do not wish to become like the Dark Lord himself. Yet the way of the Ring to my heart is by pity, pity for weakness and the desire of strength to do good. Do not tempt me! I dare not take it, not even to keep it safe, unused. The wish to wield it would be too great for my strength. I shall have such need of it. Great perils lie before me."

Almost in fear, Gandalf rose and began to open the shutters and curtains to allow the light to shine through once again.

"And now," he said, turning back to Frodo, "the decision lies with you. But I will always help you."

He laid his hand on Frodo's shoulder. "I will help you bear this burden as long as it is yours to bear, but we must do something soon. The Enemy is moving."

 

* * *

 

A long silence had taken them as Frodo mulled over the situation. This burden lied with Frodo no matter how much Gandalf and he did not wish it to be so. Severus would take it upon himself, but the words of Gandalf told him that he could not. He was only a man and he too would fall for the Ring's clutches. Gandalf, he was sure, was far purer than he and would probably last longer than Severus. He feared that if he was the one in possession of the ring, he would be the one to return it to its master. As great as he was at legilimency, the power of the ring was stronger than he. No mortal man can wield it and he was no exception.

Still he did not think that Frodo should be the one to carry it. It was the same fool hearted belief that Albus had about Harry, that he must be the one to do it and for a long time, Severus did not believe him until what laid beneath the scar on the boy's head. He was chosen and only Harry possessed the courage and strength to fight against the Dark Lord, possessing a power he knew not.

But as quick witted and brave as Frodo was, Severus was not sure that he would be able to handle the impossible mission laid before him. He was no child, far older than Harry was, but he was still a boy. A scared boy who never left home and only knew the outside world from fairytales and rumors. How could Gandalf ask this of him? It would take years to travel to Mordor by foot, carrying the weight of the world and the evil within, just to walk into enemy territory.

It was asking too much, Severus reasoned. How can they expect Frodo to agree to such a mission? But from all this time that he had gotten to know Frodo, he knew he would do it. He would bare the burden as long as he could, even if that meant sacrificing his own life. Severus had almost wanted to laugh at the thought, how similar to Harry he was. As Frodo looked at the hearth of the fire and embers, Severus knew that he already made up his mind, but the boy was scared.

"Well!" said Gandalf at last. "What are you thinking about? Have you decided what to do?"

"No!" answered Frodo, coming back to himself out of darkness, and finding to his surprise that it was not dark, and that out of the window he could see the sunlit garden. "Or perhaps, yes. As far as I understand what you have said, I suppose I must keep the Ring and guard it, at least for the present, whatever it may do to me."

"Whatever it may do, it will be slow, slow to evil, if you keep it with that purpose," said Gandalf.

"I hope so," said Frodo. "But I hope that you may find some other better keeper soon. But in the meanwhile it seems that I am a danger, a danger to all that live near me. I cannot keep the Ring and stay here. I ought to leave Bag End, leave the Shire, leave everything and go away.’ He sighed.

To Severus, he looked quite defeated. This was a burden that only he could bare, but he would be there to help him if he need it.

" I would like to save the Shire as well," Severus spoke at last. "There have been times when I thought the inhabitants too stupid and dull for words, and have felt that an earthquake or an invasion of dragons might be good for them, but Frodo it correct. He must not linger here any longer. It is best that the shire lies behind, safe and comfortable as it always been."

Frodo stared at him like a ghost, scared and vulnerable and lonely.

"However, as nice as it has been to stay here in the warm sun with good food and books, I feel that I shall find wandering more bearable."

Severus watched as Frodo relaxed visibly, but there was still tension deep within him. It was the only thing he would say to reassure Frodo that he was not alone in this, that he will be there for him as well. But the boy needed more than just Gandalf and himself.

Gandalf smiled with a twinkling eye, knowing something that neither of them did. Severus scowled at the thought.  

"‘Hobbits really are amazing creatures, as I have said before. You can learn all that there is to know about their ways in a month, and yet after a hundred years they can still surprise you at a pinch. I hardly expected to get such an answer, not even from you. But Bilbo made no mistake in choosing his heir, though he little thought how important it would prove. I am afraid you are right. The Ring will not be able to stay hidden in the Shire much longer; and for your own sake, as well as for others, you will have to go, and leave the name of Baggins behind you. That name will not be safe to have, outside the Shire or in the Wild. I will give you a travelling name now. When you go, go as Mr. Underhill."

Severus recognized the joke and showed his displeasure of it, but Gandalf did not mind him.

In a voice, far louder than what was necessary, Gandalf continued. "But I don’t think you need go alone. Not if you know of _anyone_ you can trust, and who would be _willing_ to go by your side – and that you would be willing to take into unknown perils. But if you look for a companion, be careful in choosing! And be careful of what you say, even to your closest friends! The enemy has many spies and many ways of hearing."

They both watched as Gandalf made his way towards the window and stopped, listening outside. They both became very aware that it was quiet outside. Too quiet.

Gandalf crept to one side of the window. Just then, as he sprang to the sill and thrust a long arm out downwards. There was a squawk and Severus had pulled out his wand. Up came Sam Gamgee's curly head hauled by one ear.

"Well, well, bless my beard!" said Gandalf. "Sam Gamgee is it? Now what may you be doing?"

"Lor bless you, Mr. Gandalf, sir!" said Sam. "Nothing! Leastways I was just trimming the grass-border under the window, if you follow me."

He picked up his shears and exhibited them as evidence.

"I don’t," said Gandalf grimly, but Severus knew better. He could see that damn twinkle in his eye. "It has been some time since I last heard the sound of your shears. How long have you been eavesdropping?"

"Eavesdropping, sir? I don’t follow you, begging your pardon. There ain’t no eaves at Bag End, and that’s a fact."

"Don’t be a fool! What have you heard, and why did you listen?" Severus’s eyes flashed and his hair stuck out like bristles. His wand was pointing straight at Sam’s face.

"Mr. Frodo, sir!" cried Sam quaking. "Don’t let him hurt me, sir! Don’t let him turn me into anything unnatural! My old dad would take on so. I meant no harm, on my honour, sir!"

"He won't hurt you," said Frodo, barely keeping himself from laughing. Frodo assured Sam that neither Severus nor Gandalf would hurt him and told him to answer the question. Sam fiddled with his fingers, shy and embarrassed at being caught and treated like a child.

"Well, sir," said Sam dithering a little. "I heard a deal that I didn’t rightly understand, about an enemy, and rings, and Mr. Bilbo, sir, and dragons, and a fiery mountain, and – and Elves, sir. I listened because I couldn’t help myself, if you know what I mean. Lor bless me, sir, but I do love tales of that sort. And I believe them too, whatever Ted may say. Elves, sir! I would dearly love to see them. Couldn’t you take me to see Elves, sir, when you go?"

There was a child innocence in Sam that reminded Severus of Frodo and Lily. Both were always so enthralled with the stories he told them about the wizarding world. It was no wonder why Sam and Frodo got on so well.

Suddenly Gandalf laughed. "Come inside!" he shouted.

"Take you to see Elves, eh?" he said, eyeing Sam closely, but with a smile flickering on his face. "So you heard that Mr. Frodo is going away?"

"I did, sir. And that’s why I choked: which you heard seemingly. I tried not to, sir, but it burst out of me: I was so upset."

"It can’t be helped, Sam," said Frodo sadly. He had suddenly realized that flying from the Shire would mean more painful partings than merely saying farewell to the familiar comforts of Bag End. "I shall have to go. But" – and here he looked hard at Sam – "if you really care about me, you will keep that dead secret. See? If you don’t, if you even breathe a word of what you’ve heard here, then I hope Gandalf will turn you into a spotted toad and fill the garden full of grass snakes."

Sam fell on his knees, trembling. "Get up, Sam!" said Gandalf. "I have thought of something better than that. Something to shut your mouth, and punish you properly for listening. You shall go away with Mr. Frodo!"

"Me, sir!" cried Sam, springing up like a dog invited for a walk. "Me go and see Elves and all! Hooray!" he shouted, and then burst into tears.

The poor fool, thought Severus. He quite liked Sam and it would be quite sad to see him gone. He treated the legends as a story and not a history. There were true dangers that lied ahead that only Frodo seemed to understand in the Shire. Sam was very much like the Hobbits in his home, more intelligent than most, but still oblivious and innocent from the dangers of the world. He would understand sooner rather than later.

Severus watched as he talked to Frodo, not understanding completely the journey that laid ahead of him. It was sad and pitiful as much as it was painful.

Severus knew, despite his mannerism and childish idiosyncrasy that Sam would follow Frodo to the end. Sam inspired a loyalty that he's seen only a handful of times. He could see the protectiveness and passion he shared with Frodo, similar to the high regards the Golden Trio had with each other and the same that Black had for Potter.

Severus’s lips thinned at the thought.

  
  



	6. The Beginning of an End

It had been almost three weeks since the talk that night and Frodo had made no signs of getting ready to leave.

"You ought to go quietly, and you ought to go soon," said Gandalf. But they both knew that it would difficult for Frodo to leave, to leave the only home he has ever known. As much as Frodo wished to leave for the safety of others, he was still very much in love with the Shire. 

Unlike Bilbo, he cared for everything and everyone here, despite how lonesome he had become. Still, Frodo made a point that he could not just up and leave as Bilbo had done. 

They had to make sure that nobody where he was going or when he would leave. The longer it takes for people to know that he has left would be for the better. Given the natural order of gossip of the shire, it would spread faster than a wildfire and everyone will know that he left within the hour and the enemy will know that he left with the ring by sunset. They will trace him fast and they could not afford such a thing to happen. 

So, with a heavy heart, they decided to make arrangements to leave in autumn. Both Gandalf and Severus thought that it was too far away, but Frodo had wanted to enjoy the last bit of summer left with the shire. It could be the last time he sees it.

Gandalf looked at Frodo with a sad smile. "Very well," he said. "I think that will do – but it must not be any later. I am getting very anxious. In the meanwhile, do take care, and don’t let out any hint of where you are going! And see that Sam Gamgee does not talk. If he does, I really shall turn him into a toad."

As funny as it was meant to be, there was a real threat behind his words. Gandalf would not hesitate and neither would Severus. 

However, Frodo was still troubled since he did not know where he was supposed to go. 

"I have been so taken up with the thoughts of leaving Bag End, and of saying farewell, that I have never even considered the direction," said Frodo. "For where am I to go? And by what shall I steer? What is to be my quest? Bilbo went to find a treasure, there and back again; but I go to lose one, and not return, as far as I can see."

"But you cannot see very far," said Gandalf. "Neither can I. It may be your task to find the Cracks of Doom; but that quest may be for others: I do not know. At any rate you are not ready for that long road yet."

"No indeed!’ said Frodo and Severus at the same time. 

"But in the meantime what course am I to take?" continued Frodo.

"Towards danger; but not too rashly, nor too straight," answered the wizard. Severus rolled his eyes. As if that had really helped. "If you want my advice, make for Rivendell. That journey should not prove too perilous, though the Road is less easy than it was, and it will grow worse as the year fails."

"Rivendell!" said Frodo. "Then I will go east, and I will make for Rivendell. I will take Sam to visit the Elves; he will be delighted."  He spoke lightly; but his heart was moved suddenly with a desire to see the house of Elrond Halfelven, and breathe the air of that deep valley where many of the Fair Folk still dwelt in peace. To be honest, Severus was also very excited. He had not felt such a strong, childish desire since he was young. 

With that out of the way, Severus went back to preparing for the eventual leave. There were still some things he would have to help pack away, but before he could leave, to his surprise, Gandalf  presented Severus with a gift.

It was a cauldron.

Severus's breath had been caught in his throat and he felt his eyes fill with tears. He touched it carefully as if it would disappear with a single touch. It was dark in color and was slightly bigger than the cauldrons he was used to brewing with, but it was treasured all the same.

Ever since he had come to Middle Earth, Severus was forced to give up the art of potion making. There weren't any cauldrons around made strong enough for the art. He had tried and all had melted or been destroyed before he could get a good use out of them. Throughout his time here, he tried and tried until he had just given up of ever being able to brew again. It hurt him deeply, but was nonetheless a reality he had to face. Frodo had told him that he must not give all hope up yet for there exists metals and dwarves capable of creating a cauldron strong enough for it, but they had never found one nor was there a dwarve capable at the moment (all of them that were passing through were leaving and did not have the necessary tools to make it at the time). 

Severus spent his days in the shire with readings, eating, sleeping, and spell casting. However, he rarely got to use his magic. Of course, the hobbits knew of magic and there was no need for secrecy, but it would do no good to draw more attention to himself than was needed. He mostly did little spells for repair, cleaning, and for protection throughout the years, mostly done within the confinements of Frodo's home or in the forest, away from watchful eyes. He never used more magic than was necessary, much to Frodo's displeasure. He did of course tried to make new spells but the process was also dangerous. He had left to the forest to conduct them, but he was only able to make a few new spells.  

There was only one thing that he did regularly and that was gardening. It took time and effort, but most of it was still done by Sam. However, Sam mostly did the gardening for weeds and to mend the trees, bushes, and the flowers. But Sam had taken an interest in the small garden that Severus had in the back. It was nothing big nor grand, just a few plants that were used in potion making. The garden was both mocking as it was relieving. He had used the ingredients that he had gathered from the forest when he had first arrived to make his own garden. 

He taught Sam the correct way to plant, mend, and collect. It was something that they shared since Frodo never really cared for gardening. He would join them every now and then, but he mostly watched. 

They grew Dittany, Wormwood, Lady's Mantle, Aconite, Peppermint, Bloodroot, and had even planted a wiggentree. They would harvest the plants and use them for storage ( kept in the alcove in the shed) or to replant for the next season. But it would seem that they would finally have a use yet. 

"This," began Gandalf, " is a cauldron made of Tilkal. It was a unique metal composed of six different metals: Copper, Silver, Tin, Lead, Iron, and Gold. It is extremely strong, hard, and smooth. Frodo has told me several stories of you wishing to own a cauldron durable enough for 'potion making.' During my adventures, I had stumbled upon one by an old friend in the mountains. He had no use for it and had given it to me glady so that it might actually have some use. I'm sure you will treat it well." 

Severus had thanked Gandalf excessively, but the old man waved it away and smiled brightly.

Severus did not have all the tools or ingredients (many of which were too rare or did not exist here in middle earth), but there was still so much he could make. Severus spent the remainder of their time in the shire brewing. He hardly slept or ate, too enthralled in the art that he had missed so much. Frodo found it both amusing and worrying with Severus's knew obsession but did little to fight against it. It was good for Severus to do what he loved.  

 

* * *

 

 

Nearing the end of the summer, Frodo had come to Severus with the intentions of selling Bag End to Sackville-Bagginses. The shire gossiped non-stop, each creating unlikely stories as to why. Of course, Frodo did not wish to leave nor did he want to give up his home, but it was all for the plan to leave unnoticed. He was to announce that he would be moving back to Buckland. 

"Yes, I shall be moving this autumn," he said. "Merry Brandybuck is looking out for a nice little hole for me, or perhaps a small house."

As a matter of fact with Merry’s help he had already chosen and bought a little house at Crickhollow in the country beyond Bucklebury. To all but Sam he pretended he was going to settle down there permanently. The decision to set out eastwards had suggested the idea to him; for Buckland was on the eastern borders of the Shire, and as he had lived there in childhood him going back would at least seem credible.

Gandalf had stayed at the shire for over two months. Once everything was set and planned, Gandalf announced that he will be leaving. 

“Only for a short while, I hope," he said. "But I am going down beyond the southern borders to get some news, if I can. I have been idle longer than I should." He spoke lightly, but it seemed to Severus that he looked rather worried. 

"Has anything happened?" he asked. Frodo had gone to bed and Severus and Gandalf were drinking some tea in the kitchen. 

"Well no; but I have heard something that has made me anxious and needs looking into. If I think it necessary after all for you to get off at once, I shall come back immediately, or at least send word. In the meanwhile stick to the plan; but be more careful than ever, especially of the Ring. Let me impress once more: don’t allow Frodo to use it!"

And with that, he went off at dawn. "I may be back any day," he told Frodo. "At the very latest I shall come back for the farewell party. I think after all you may need my company on the Road."

Frodo had wanted to know what he had heard, but when he questioned Severus he told him he didn't know. Soon, he forgot about his worrying with the summer ending and the beginning of a rich autumn. The harvest was good with apples, honey, and corn. However, Severus was beginning to worry. It had been a great deal of time since they had last heard of Gandalf and it was reaching September. Each day, the Birthday and the leaving grew nearer and Frodo was beginning to fear for Gandalf's safety. 

As such, life in Bag End began to become busy with preparations. Some of Frodo’s friends came to stay and help him with the packing: there was Fredegar Bolger and Folco Boffin, and of course his special friends Pippin Took and Merry Brandybuck. Between them they turned the whole place upside-down. Severus could have done all the packaging easily with a  wave of his wand, but he did not interfere as to allow friends to spend the last of their time with one another. Severus did however, pack his own things and the supplies of potions and thier ingredients. Some would be going to the house that Frodo had bought, but most was to stay with him. The potion ingredients, while he doubted he could brew during the travels, were useful all on their own. 

On September 20th two covered carts went off laden to Buckland, conveying the furniture and goods that Frodo had not sold to his new home, by way of the Brandywine Bridge.The next day Frodo became really anxious, and kept a constant look-out for Gandalf. Thursday, his birthday morning, dawned as fair and clear as it had long ago for Bilbo’s great party. Still Gandalf did not appear. In the evening Frodo gave his farewell feast: it was quite small, just a dinner for himself and his four helpers; but he was troubled and felt in no mood for it. The thought that he would so soon have to part with his young friends weighed on his heart. 

He wondered how he would break it to them. The four younger hobbits were, however, in high spirits, and the party soon became very cheerful in spite of Gandalf’s absence. The dining-room was bare except for a table and chairs, but the food was good, and there was good wine: Frodo’s wine had not been included in the sale to the Sackville-Bagginses. Thank Merlin, thought Severus. He would have fought tooth and nail against Frodo for such a decision. This wine, while he never drank much of it (preferring whiskey), was still the best he's ever tasted. Luckily, Frodo had sense and there was no need. 

However, as soon as dinner was over and they had began to sing, Severus took his leave to make sure they had everything they needed. Yet, even with everything ready and the party now long over, Gandalf had not come and a deep worry filled him. 

 

The next morning, Merry and Mr. Bolger took the last of their things to the home to await for Frodo. They had decided to wait for nightful to see if Gandalf would come or to hear word. Frodo suggested that they would go to Crickhollow. They were to go on foot for Frodo to get one last look of the land and to prepare himself with a small walk for the long journey ahead. 

Frodo was looking in the mirror in the half empty hall. Severus stood behind him, leaning on the wall and watched him with amused expression. 

"I shall get myself a bit into training too," he said, looking at himself. His main focus was that of his stomach which Frodo remarked seemed to be a little flabby. 

After lunch, came Sackville-Bagginses and her son, Lotho. It took a long time and a bit of threatening on Severus's part to satisfy her. Neither of them offered her any tea while she was there, but that didn't stop Severus from having a cup. She stared at him as if he was the most foul thing she has seen, but did not say anything about it. 

Frodo soon joined him with Pippin and Sam. They had announced that Sam would be joining them to look after his garden and work in the house.

 

* * *

 

When the sun went down, Bag End seemed sad and gloomy and disheveled. Severus stood by the exit as he watched Frodo walk from room to room one last time before they made their way down the Hill Road.

The sky was clear and the sun was out. It was a bit cold with a strong breeze. Severus provided a heating charm on Frodo as to keep him warm. But right before they left, Severus hushed Frodo and dragged him to the shadows. They could hear whispering, faint as it was, but clear to understand. It was Gaffer and a stranger. 

"No, Mr. Baggins has gone away. Went this morning, and my Sam went with him: anyway all his stuff went. Yes, sold out and gone, I tell’ee. Why? Why’s none of my business, or yours. Where to? That ain’t no secret. He’s moved to Bucklebury or some such place, away down yonder. Yes it is – a tidy way. I’ve never been so far myself; they’re queer folks in Buckland. No, I can’t give no message. Good night to you!"

With footsteps going away, Severus had yet to release Frodo until he was sure that the stranger was gone. 

They walked quickly back to Bag End where Pippin was sitting on the porch without Sam.

"Sam," he called. "Sam! Time!"

"Coming, sir," came the answer and was soon followed by Sam, wiping his mouth. 

"All aboard, Sam?" said Frodo. "Yes, sir. I’ll last for a bit now, sir." Frodo shut and locked the round door, and gave the key to Sam. 

"Run down with this to your home, Sam!" he said. "Then cut along the Row and meet us as quick as you can at the gate in the lane beyond the meadows. We are not going through the village tonight. Too many ears pricking and eyes prying." Sam ran off at full speed. 

"Well, now we’re off at last!" said Frodo. They shouldered their packs and took up their sticks, and walked round the corner to the west side of Bag End. "Good-bye!" said Frodo, looking at the dark blank windows. He waved his hand, and then turned and hurried after Peregrin down the garden-path. They jumped over the low place in the hedge at the bottom and took to the fields, passing into the darkness like a rustle in the grasses.

  
  
  
  



	7. The Black Rider

Both Severus and Frodo waited at the bottom of the Hill near a gate that had an opening of a narrow lane. Frodo adjusted his strap while Pippin hummed a tune. Severus was watching the area, listening closely for anything out of the ordinary. The stranger from earlier was still fresh on his mind and wasn’t taking any chances if he had found them.

Luckily, they didn't have to wait long until Sam appeared, trotting quickly towards them and breathing hard. His pack was large and taller than him. Frodo had asked if he was alright given the weight of his pack, but Sam brushed away his concerns.

"I could take more yet, sir. My packet is quite light," said Sam, like a liar. But before Sam could persuade Frodo to give him more, Pippin interrupted.

"Don't you dare, Sam!" said Pippin. "You have more than enough. Besides, it will be good for him. He's got nothing more than what he told us to pack. He will get used to it once he walked off some of his slack!"

Frodo laughed good naturally, not taking offense since he told Severus the same thing earlier.

"Be king to a poor old Hobbit!" said Frodo, a gleam in his eye. "I suspect you have taken more than your share, Sam, and I shall look into it at our next packing so that I can share the weight."

"There will be no need," interrupted Severus. Unlike the two before him, Severus hardly carried anything but the sack that he first came to the shire with. He had charmed it so that it would be a bottomless, similar to Ms. Granger's. Severus carried a variety of clothing, healing and bedding supplies, books, tools, and potions. Severus had also placed a feather light charm on his and continued to do so onto Frodo's and Sam's packs.

Pippin and Sam watched both in fear and captivation as Severus took out his wand and placed the charm. Pippin knew that Severus possessed magic, as every else did, but had never gotten the chance to see it be done before. However, Sam was more frightful that Severus would turn him into a toad. He was greatly surprised and relieved that the weight on his back had lessen greatly to the point that he looked back to see if it was there at all. Frodo mirrored his action with a giant grin.

"It feels as heavy as a pillow," exclaimed Frodo. They talked excitedly amongst themselves of magic and its wondrous uses, but then Severus had heard something in the far distance. The trees moved with the wind, brushing against each other until a feeling had overcome him. Something was coming and it would be best if they moved quickly now.

With some words of encouragement, they moved westwards. Halfway through, they moved left and went through the fields. They walked in a single file line along the hedgerows and the borders of coppices. Severus remained in the back, listening while gripping his wand tightly.

In the dark, their cloaks almost made them appear invisible with the exception of when they passed through the moonlight. Severus had already placed a notice-me-not spell on each of them to provide further protection. He was hesitant at first. The spell worked on wizards, but those of great power could see through them easily. Besides Gandalf, he never met another person with magic and never tested his abilities against Gandalf either. He was not sure if it would help or if he would leave a magic trail behind. It was a risk he took since he knew that Muggles would never see them and it was for the better.

Luckily, the hobbits had seemed to understand that they needed to make as little noise as possible. Even Pippin who often liked to sing or talk was unusually silent.

After some time, they crossed the water, west of Hobbiton, by a narrow plank-bridge. A mile or two further south, they hastily crossed the great road from Brandywine Bridge and were now in the Tookland and bending south-eastwards as they made their war towards the Green Hill Country. They could see the glistening lights in Hobbiton, but it soon disappeared. With the last light gone, Frodo waved it farewell

"I wonder if I shall ever look down into that valley again," he whispered quietly to himself. None of the other hobbits had heard him, but Severus had. He didn't offer any words of comfort since he didn't like making promises he couldn't keep. However, he did place a reassuring hand Frodo's shoulders and steered him towards the direction of the other hobbits.

They walked for about three hours before Severus said that they could take a short break and rest. The night was clear, cool, and misty. Severus had taken it upon himself to stand guard and watch as the Hobbits talked amongst themselves quietly. They ate a very frugal supper, by hobbits means, and then moved again.

They walked endlessly. They were mostly quiet and spent their time talking and singing gently to keep themselves awake. Severus didn't stop them since they were now far away from inquisitive ears, but he still made sure to listen carefully for anything unexpected.

They had only walked for a few more hours before Pippin began to lag behind. Severus made sure to stand beside him, encouraging him to keep moving forward lest Severus waved his wand at him in a threatening manner. It was a bluff, mostly, since it had its desire affect. Pippin moved more steadily but was still not nearly as fast as Severus had hoped. However, it had only been a temporary solution as Pippin had soon stopped and yawned.

“I am so sleepy,” he said, “I shall fall down on the road and sleep. It is nearly midnight.”

“I thought you liked walking in the dark,” said Frodo. “But there is no great hurry. Merry expects us some time the day after tomorrow; but that leaves us nearly two days more. We’ll halt at the first likely spot.”

“The wind’s in the West,” said Sam. “If we get to the other side of this hill, we shall find a spot that is sheltered and snug enough, sir. There is a dry fir-wood just ahead, if I remember rightly.” Sam knew the land well within twenty miles of Hobbiton which is why he lead the group, but that was the limit of his geography.

They all looked at Severus for confirmation to head in that direction as he had become the leader of the group. It would be better if they continued, but Severus knew better than to push them beyond their limits. They walked far enough to be safe for a night's rest. With a nod, they made their way.

Leaving the road they went into the deep darkness of the trees, and gathered dead sticks and cones to make a fire. Soon they had a merry crackle of flame at the foot of a large fir-tree and they sat round it for a while, until they began to slowly fall asleep. At each angle of the great tree’s roots, the hobbits curled up in their cloaks and blankets, and were soon fast asleep.

They were in no immediate danger for them to set up a night watch, but Severus was not tired nor was he willing to take a chance. He spent the time setting up wards before he sat by the fire. The air was fresh and cool to breath in. He closed his eyes taking in the world around him once again. A few creatures came and left, but other than that, they were hardly disturbed.

It wasn't long before Severus found himself falling into a slumber as well.

 

* * *

 

The morning came soon. It was brisk and wet with morning dew, but it was also bright and fresh. Severus woke up first and had spent his time watching the area around them. Frodo soon woke soon after and took it upon himself to wake up the rest. All of them groaned in pain from stiff necks and backs.

“Sam! Get breakfast ready for half-past nine! Have you got the bath-water hot?” said Pippin, peering over the edge of his blanket with one eye. Sam jumped up, looking rather bleary-eyed.

“No, sir, I haven’t, sir!” he said. Frodo stripped the blankets from Pippin and rolled him over, and then walked off to the edge of the wood. Away eastward the sun was rising red out of the mists that lay thick on the world. Touched with gold and red the autumn trees seemed to be sailing rootless in a shadowy sea. A little below him to the left the road ran down steeply into a hollow and disappeared. When he returned Sam and Pippin had got a good fire going.

“Water!” shouted Pippin. “Where’s the water?”

“I don’t keep water in my pockets,” said Frodo.

“We thought you had gone to find some,” said Pippin, busy setting out the food and cups. “You had better go now.”

“You can come too you know,” said Frodo, “and bring all the water bottles.”

Severus spent his time watching them after he deemed it safe. He had already packed water for himself and for emergency. He watched as Frodo and Pippin walked, still visible to the eye, to a stream at the foot of the hill. They filled their bottles and the small camping kettle. They walked towards a little waterfall where they washed their hands, feet, and face to remove the dirt of the forest before making their way back.

When they had finished breakfast and were all ready to go, left soon after.

The day was hot and bright. They walked for most of the day, taking several different trails and never walking in a straight line. It was only when it was midday had they finally took another resting break for lunch.

“The road goes on forever,” moaned Pippin. “But I can’t go on without rest. It is high time for lunch.” He sat down on the bank at the side of the road and looked away east into the haze, beyond which lay the River, and the end of the Shire in which he had spent all his life. Sam stood by him. His round eyes were wide open – for he was looking across lands he had never seen to a new horizon.

“Do Elves live in those woods?” he asked.

“None that I ever heard,” said Pippin. Frodo and Severus were silent. Frodo too was gazing eastward along the road, as if he had never seen it before.

_The Road goes ever on and on_

_Down from the door where it began._

_Now far ahead the Road has gone,_

_And I must follow, if I can,_

_Pursuing it with weary feet,_

_Until it joins some larger way,_

_Where many paths and errands meet._

_And whither then? I cannot say._

“That sounds like a bit of old Bilbo’s rhyming,” said Pippin. “Or is it one of your imitations? It does not sound altogether encouraging.”

“I don’t know,” said Frodo. “It came to me then, as if I was making it up; but I may have heard it long ago. Certainly it reminds me very much of Bilbo in the last years, before he went away. He used often to say there was only one Road; that it was like a great river: its springs were at every doorstep, and every path was its tributary. ‘It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door,’ he used to say. ‘You step into the Road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to. Do you realize that this is the very path that goes through Mirkwood, and that if you let it, it might take you to the Lonely Mountain or even further to worse places?’ He used to say that about the path outside the front door at Bag End, especially after he had been out for a long walk.’

“Well, the Road won’t sweep me anywhere for an hour at least,” said Pippin, unslinging his pack. The others followed his example, putting their packs against the bank and their legs out into the road.

 

* * *

 

They walked far longer since their last stop. They were making good time despite the zig-zag  trails they took.

Luckily, they hadn't met a single soul on their journey since this was a path not usually taken since it was not big enough for carts. Both Pippin and Frodo were teasing Sam of a maiden back in the shire when Severus had suddenly stopped as if listening to something in the distance. They had immediately quieten and waited.

"There is someone coming," whispered Severus. " A rider coming along the road behind us."

They looked back, but the turn of the road prevented them from seeing far.

“I wonder if is Gandalf coming after us,” said Frodo; but even as he said it, he had a feeling that it was not so, and a sudden desire to hide from the view of the rider came over him.

“I don't thinks so either,”  said Severus, “But I would rather not be seen on the road either way. Quickly, let’s get out of sight!’

With that, all the hobbits quickly moved to the left and down into a small hollow not far from the road. They lay flat against the muddy walls. It was dirty, bug infested, and cramped. Their breathing was loud, but they dared not move. Yet Frodo had hesitated for a second: curiosity or some other feeling was struggling against his desire to hide. The sound of hoofs drew nearer. Just in time, Severus pushed him down into a small cavern beneath the earth and tree that overshadowed the road and followed him.

Frodo lifted his head and peered cautiously above one of the great roots. Round the corner came a black horse, no hobbit-pony but a full-sized horse; and on it sat a large man, who seemed to crouch in the saddle, wrapped in a great black cloak and hood, so that only his boots in the high stirrups showed below; his face was shadowed and invisible.

Severus gently pushed him back, a finger at his lips as he watched the stranger through a hole in the ground.

When it reached the tree and was at level with Frodo, the horse stopped. The riding figure sat quite still with its head bowed, as if listening. From inside the hood came a noise as of someone sniffing to catch an elusive scent; the head turned from side to side of the road.

A sudden unreasoning fear of discovery laid hold of Frodo, and he thought of his Ring. He hardly dared to breathe, and yet the desire to get it out of his pocket became so strong that he began slowly to move his hand. He felt that he had only to slip it on, and then he would be safe. The advice of Gandalf seemed absurd. Bilbo had used the Ring. ‘And I am still in the Shire,’ he thought, as his hand touched the chain on which it hung. But before he could place the ring upon his fingers, Severus's hand had grasped his own and held it tightly, never losing sight of the thing above them.  At that moment the rider sat up, and shook the reins. The horse stepped forward, walking slowly at first, and then breaking into a quick trot.

Severus crawled to the edge of the road with his wand at hand and watched the rider, until he dwindled into the distance. He could not be quite sure, but it seemed to him that suddenly, before it passed out of sight, the horse turned aside and went into the trees on the right.

“Well, I call that very odd and indeed disturbing,” said Frodo to himself, as he walked towards his companions. Pippin and Sam had remained flat in the grass, and had seen nothing; so Frodo described the rider and his strange behaviour.

“I can’t say why, but I felt certain he was looking or smelling for me; and also I felt certain that I did not want him to discover me. I’ve never seen or felt anything like it in the Shire before.”

Severus watched Frodo. He had supsected that whom ever wanted the ring would be able find traces of Severus’s magic, but it seemed that they were tracing Frodo. He quickly spared a glance to Frodo’s right pocket that hid the ring. The ring wanted to be found, Severus reasoned. Of course they would be able to trace its power or find some way to track them down. It was possible that they had somehow obtained Frodo’s scent and was tracking him through that, but Severus was not sure. It was something he would have to think about and talk to Gandalf about should they ever find the wizard on their journey.

“But what has one of the Big People got to do with us?” said Pippin. “And what is he doing in this part of the world?”

“There are some Men” began Frodo, “down in the Southfarthing whom have been having trouble with Big People, I believe. But I have never heard of anything like this rider. I wonder where he came from.”

“Begging your pardon,” put in Sam suddenly, “I know where he comes from. It’s from Hobbiton that this here black rider comes, unless there’s more than one. And I know where he’s going to.”

“What do you mean?” said Severus sharply, his black eyes narrowed in suspension at Sam who began to sweat and pale slightly at the look. “Why didn’t you speak about this before?”

“I have only just remembered, sir. It was like this: when I got back to our hole yesterday evening with the key, my dad, he says to me:

_Hallo, Sam! he says. I thought you were away with Mr. Frodo this morning. There’s been a strange customer asking for Mr. Baggins of Bag End, and he’s only just gone. I’ve sent him on to Bucklebury. Not that I liked the sound of him. He seemed mighty put out, when I told him Mr. Baggins had left his old home for good. Hissed at me, he did. It gave me quite a shudder. What sort of a fellow was he? says I to the Gaffer. I don’t know, says he; but he wasn’t a hobbit. He was tall and black-like, and he stooped over me. I reckon it was one of the Big Folk from foreign parts. He spoke funny._

“I couldn’t stay to hear more, sir, since you were waiting; and I didn’t give much heed to it myself. The Gaffer is getting old, and more than a bit blind, and it must have been near dark when this fellow came up the Hill and found him taking the air at the end of our Row. I hope he hasn’t done no harm, sir, nor me.”

“The Gaffer can’t be blamed anyway,’ said Frodo pointly as he interrupted Severus.  Frodo recognized the look immediately that came on Severus’s face who was about lash at Sam’s and his father’s stupidity. ‘As a matter of fact, we heard him talking to a stranger, who seemed to be inquiring for me, and I nearly went and asked him who it was. I wish I had, or you had told me about it before. I might have been more careful on the road.”

“Still, there may be no connexion between this rider and the Gaffer’s stranger,” said Pippin. “We left Hobbiton secretly enough, and I don’t see how he could have followed us.”

“What about the smelling, sir?” said Sam, returning Severus’s earlier point. “And the Gaffer said he was a black chap.”

“I wish I had waited for Gandalf,” Frodo muttered. “But perhaps it would only have made matters worse.”

“Then you know or guess something about this rider?” said Pippin, who had caught the muttered words.

“I don’t know for sure, but I would rather not guess,”said Frodo.

“All right, cousin Frodo! You can keep your secret for the present, if you want to be mysterious. In the meanwhile what are we to do? I should like a bite and a sup, but somehow I think we had better move on from here. Your talk of sniffing riders with invisible noses has unsettled me.”

“Yes, I think we will move on now,” said Severus; “but not on the road – in case that rider comes back, or another follows him. We ought to do a good step more today. Buckland is still miles away.”

With that, they continued on their way. If the rider knew where Frodo's new home was, it would be better if they didn't head in that direction at all. It would be better to go someplace else entirely. But Merry was there, Frodo had argued. That can't just leave him there alone, unprotected. Plus, had Gandalf came to the shire, he would know that they left and would know to head there instead. It was there only chance to meet him again, reasoned Frodo. Still, Severus was still unsure. It would be safer, but Frodo wouldn't accept anything else and so they continued their journey despite Severus's displeasure. He he was half tempted to just drag the hobbit himself, but he refrained. They didn't have other place to go nor did they have any plans. If Gandalf was there, it was a chance that they would have to take.

Despite Severus’s  abilities and intelligence, there was still so much that he didn't know about this world nor did he know his limitations. Frodo and Gandalf knew more than he did.

The shadows of the trees were long and thin on the grass, as they started off again. They now kept a stone’s throw to the left of the road, and kept out of sight of it as much as they could. But this hindered them; for the grass was thick and tussocky, and the ground uneven, and the trees began to draw together into thickets.

The sun had gone down red behind the hills at their backs, and evening was coming on before they came back to the road at the end of the long level over which it had run straight for some miles. At that point it bent left and went down into the lowlands of the Yale making for Stock; but a lane branched right, winding through a wood of ancient oak-trees on its way to Woodhall. ‘

They walked through the night with nothing but the stars to guide them on their travel. It had been a long time since they had heard the rider and his horse, but they still kept mostly quiet. The hobbits had already began to sing quietly or hum a tune, more quietly than before.

Gazing at the trees, Frodo began to think of Bilbo and songs he had taught him as a child. He sang the words gently that blew with wind and lost in the night. It was haunting just as much as it was beautiful.

_Upon the hearth the fire is red,_

_Beneath the roof there is a bed;_

_But not yet weary are our feet,_

_Still round the corner we may meet_

_A sudden tree or standing stone_

_That none have seen but we alone._

_Tree and flower and leaf and grass,_

_Let them pass! Let them pass!_

_Hill and water under sky,_

_Pass them by! Pass them by!_

_Still round the corner there may wait_

_A new road or a secret gate,_

_And though we pass them by today,_

_Tomorrow we may come this way_

_And take the hidden paths that run_

_Towards the Moon or to the Sun._

_Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,_

_Let them go! Let them go!_

_Sand and stone and pool and dell,_

_Fare you well! Fare you well!_

_Home is behind, the world ahead,_

_And there are many paths to tread_

_Through shadows to the edge of night,_

_Until the stars are all alight._

_Then world behind and home ahead,_

_We’ll wander back to home and bed._

_Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,_

_Away shall fade! Away shall fade!_

_Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,_

_And then to bed! And then to bed!_

Pippin had joined in at the end, his voice high. Both Severus and Frodo had hushed him. The sound of hoofs was near.

They all stopped, standing still as trees and listened. There were hoofs, behind them them, and were coming closer and closer. They quickly and quietly slipped of the path and ran deeper into the shade of the forest. Severus stood in front of them, using his body as to cover the hobbits that hid behind him.

The hoofs drew nearer. They had no time to find any hiding-place better than the general darkness under the trees; Sam and Pippin crouched behind a large tree-bole, while Frodo crept back a few yards towards the lane. It showed grey and pale, a line of fading light through the wood. Above it the stars were thick in the dim sky, but there was no moon.

The sound of hoofs had stopped not so far away from them. Severus already had his wand ready for any spell to cast. He inched closer towards the hobbits to shield them from sight.

They could hear sniffling and Severus watched as the rider moved closer to them.

Once more the desire to slip on the Ring came over Frodo; but this time it was stronger than before. So strong that, almost before he realized what he was doing, his hand was groping in his pocket. But at that moment there came a sound like mingled song and laughter. Clear voices rose and fell in the starlit air. The black shadow straightened up and retreated. It climbed on to the shadowy horse and seemed to vanish across the lane into the darkness on the other side. Frodo breathed again.

"Elves!" exclaimed Sam in a hoarse whisper. "Elves, sir!" He would have burst out of the trees and dashed off towards the voices, if they had not pulled him back.

They sang song, beautiful despite the fact that Severus had only knew a few words. There were not a lot of Elvish words in the books he's read. The few that he knew were the ones that Gandalf or Frodo had taught him, but Frodo was nowhere near fluent as Gandalf. He knew a few more words than Severus, but he suspected he could understand the song more clearly.

Severus watched them with mild interest. Like Sam, he had never seen the elves and often desired to take a look at them himself. He was at awe at their beauty and grace. He never seen anyone bore more beauty or light in his life.

Before long the Elves came down the lane towards the valley. They passed slowly, and the hobbits could see the starlight glimmering on their hair and in their eyes. They bore no lights, yet as they walked a shimmer, like the light of the moon above the rim of the hills before it rises, seemed to fall about their feet. They were now silent, and as the last Elf passed he turned and looked towards the hobbits and laughed.

"Hail, Frodo!" he cried. "You are abroad late. Or are you perhaps lost?" Then he called aloud to the others, and all the company stopped and gathered round. "This is indeed wonderful!" they said. "Three hobbits and a man in a wood at night! We have not seen such a thing since Bilbo went away. What is the meaning of it?"

But none of them had answered. They were elves yes, but Severus did not know them nor did he trust them.

"Who are you and who is your lord," inquired Severus. His wand pointed at them and he watched them with narrowed eyes. He did not like that they were seen nor did he like that they knew Frodo since he did not know them.

"I am Gildor," answered their leader, the Elf who had first hailed him. "Gildor Inglorion of the House of Finrod. We are Exiles, and most of our kindred have long ago departed and we too are now only tarrying here a while, ere we return over the Great Sea. But some of our kinsfolk dwell still in peace in Rivendell. Tell us what troubles you for there is a shadow of fear upon you."

"O Wise People!" interrupted Pippin eagerly. "Tell us about the Black Riders!"

"Black Riders?" they said in low voices. "Why do you ask about Black Riders?"

"Because two Black Riders have overtaken us today, or one has done so twice," said Pippin; "only a little while ago he slipped away as you drew near."

The Elves did not answer at once, but spoke together softly in their own tongue. Severus was almost tempted to wack Pippin for spilling their secrets and weakness. At length Gildor turned to the hobbits.

"We will not speak of this here," he said. "We think you had best come now with us. It is not our custom, but for this time we will take you on our road, and you shall lodge with us tonight, if you will."

"O Fair Folk! This is good fortune beyond my hope," said Pippin. Sam was speechless and looked like he was going to burst down in tears.

"I thank you indeed, Gildor Inglorion," said Frodo bowing, he elbowed Severus in thigh and he gave a curt nod in response.

"Elen sı´la lu´menn’ omentielvo, a star shines on the hour of our meeting," he added in the High-elven speech.

"Bilbo was a good master. Hail, Elf-friend"’ Gildor said, bowing to Frodo. "Come now with your friends and join our company! You had best walk in the middle so that you may not stray. You may be weary before we halt."

"Why? Where are you going?" asked Frodo.

"For tonight we go to the woods on the hills above Woodhall. It is some miles, but you shall have rest at the end of it, and it will shorten your journey tomorrow."

They now marched on again in silence, and passed like shadows and faint lights: for Elves (even more than hobbits) could walk when they wished without sound or footfall. Pippin soon began to feel sleepy, and staggered once or twice; but each time a tall Elf at his side put out his arm and saved him from a fall. Sam walked along at Frodo’s side, as if in a dream, with an expression on his face half of fear and half of astonished joy. Severus remained in the back of the hobbits, watching everything around him. Several times, he had caught the curious gazes of the Elves. They would stare at him as if they were unsure of what to make of him. He suspected that they could sense his magic, but he had a feeling it was not that. There was something...almost sacred walking besides them.

Severus was not a very nice person nor was he a very good one. He knew that darkness laid within him and still remained on his skin. He was not beautiful nor was he gentle. There was almost a jealous anger that burned within him as he gazed at their beautiful faces. These elves, they glowed were light does not exist. Each step was sure and graceful. He felt naked at their gazes and hated the looks that they sent his way. There were several times were he was self conscious of his looks but he had grown over it as he got older. Yet here, he felt the same childish insecurities walking beside them. But the looks they sent him were not judging or cruel and that made Severus dislike them more. Luckily, none of them seem willing to engage in conversation with him and kept to themselves despite them watching him constantly. He was, after all, a stranger to this world.

The woods on either side became denser; the trees were now younger and thicker; and as the lane went lower, running down into a fold of the hills, there were many deep brakes of hazel on the rising slopes at either hand. At last the Elves turned aside from the path. A green ride lay almost unseen through the thickets on the right; and this they followed as it wound away back up the wooded slopes on to the top of a shoulder of the hills that stood out into the lower land of the river-valley. Suddenly they came out of the shadow of the trees, and before them lay a wide space of grass, grey under the night. On three sides the woods pressed upon it; but eastward the ground fell steeply and the tops of the dark trees, growing at the bottom of the slope, were below their feet. Beyond, the low lands lay dim and flat under the stars. Nearer at hand a few lights twinkled in the village of Woodhall. The Elves sat on the grass and spoke together in soft voices; they seemed to take no further notice of the hobbits, but their attention was still on Severus. They whispered amongst themselves in Elvish. Many studied him and would look at him as if searching for something that laid on his person. Their eyes always seem to land at his chest in the end. He had half suspected that they could see the necklace that he wore. He had never taken it off when he had first discovered it nor did he show it to anyone. Not even Frodo or Gandalf knew he had it, yet it seemed as if they didn't need to be told. It was almost as if they already knew where it was and what it was. Severus was almost tempted to ask what it was they were looking at and if they knew of the necklace, but he didn't. He had always wondered what it was and what it meant. It was the only thing he had on his person that was not there before. It was important yes, but none of the books that Bilbo left for Frodo provided any details or answers. In the end, Severus decided to not ask and made sure that the hobbits were secured and well.

He found them wrapped in their cloaks and blankets, barely fighting off sleep. It was only when the night grew on and the lights of the valley went out did Pippin fall asleep.  

Away high in the East swung Remmirath, the Netted Stars, and slowly above the mists red Borgil rose, glowing like a jewel of fire. Then by some shift of airs all the mist was drawn away like a veil, and there leaned up, as he climbed over the rim of the world, the Swordsman of the Sky, Menelvagor with his shining belt. The Elves all burst into song. Suddenly under the trees a fire sprang up with a red light. ‘Come!’ the Elves called to the hobbits.

"Come! Now is the time for speech and merriment!" Pippin sat up and rubbed his eyes. He shivered.

"There is a fire in the hall, and food for hungry guests," said an Elf standing before him. At the south end of the greensward there was an opening. There the green floor ran on into the wood, and formed a wide space like a hall, roofed by the boughs of trees. Their great trunks ran like pillars down each side. In the middle there was a wood-fire blazing, and upon the tree-pillars torches with lights of gold and silver were burning steadily. The Elves sat round the fire upon the grass or upon the sawn rings of old trunks. Some went to and fro bearing cups and pouring drink; others brought food on heaped plates and dishes.

"This is poor fare," they said to the hobbits and Severus;"‘for we are lodging in the greenwood far from our halls. If ever you are our guests at home, we will treat you better."

"It seems to me good enough for a birthday-party," said Frodo. Pippin afterwards recalled little of either food or drink, for his mind was filled with the light upon the elf-faces, and the sound of voices so various and so beautiful that he felt in a waking dream. But he remembered that there was bread, surpassing the savour of a fair white loaf to one who is starving; and fruits sweet as wildberries and richer than the tended fruits of gardens; he drained a cup that was filled with a fragrant draught, cool as a clear fountain, golden as a summer afternoon.

Sam could never describe in words, nor picture clearly to himself, what he felt or thought that night, though it remained in his memory as one of the chief events of his life. The nearest he ever got was to say: "Well, sir, if I could grow apples like that, I would call myself a gardener. But it was the singing that went to my heart, if you know what I mean."

Frodo sat, eating, drinking, and talking with delight; but his mind was chiefly on the words spoken. He knew a little of the elf-speech and listened eagerly. Now and again he spoke to those that served him and thanked them in their own language. They smiled at him and said laughing: ‘Here is a jewel among hobbits!’ After a while Pippin fell fast asleep, and was lifted up and borne away to a bower under the trees; there he was laid upon a soft bed and slept the rest of the night away. Sam refused to leave his master. When Pippin had gone, he came and sat curled up at Frodo’s feet, where at last he nodded and closed his eyes. Frodo and Severus remained long awake, talking with Gildor.

They spoke of many things, old and new, and Frodo questioned Gildor much about happenings in the wide world outside the Shire. The tidings were mostly sad and ominous: of gathering darkness, the wars of Men, and the flight of the Elves. At last Frodo asked the question that was nearest to his heart: "Tell me, Gildor, have you ever seen Bilbo since he left us?"

Gildor smiled. "Yes," he answered. "Twice. He said farewell to us on this very spot. But I saw him once again, far from here." He would say no more about Bilbo, and Frodo fell silent. "You do not ask me or tell me much that concerns yourself, Frodo," said Gildor. "But I already know a little, and I can read more in your face and in the thought behind your questions. You are leaving the Shire, and yet you doubt that you will find what you seek, or accomplish what you intend, or that you will ever return. Is that not so?"

"It is," said Frodo; "but I thought my going was a secret known only to Gandalf, Severus, and my faithful Sam." He looked down at Sam, who was snoring gently.

"The secret will not reach the Enemy from us," assured Gildor who looked at them both with honesty.

"The Enemy?" said Severus. "Then you know why we left the Shire?"

"I do not know for what reason the Enemy is pursuing you," answered Gildor; "but I perceive that he is – strange indeed though that seems to me. And I warn you that peril is now both before you and behind you, and upon either side."

"You mean the Riders?" continued Severus. "I suspected that they were servants of the Enemy. What are the Black Riders?"

"Has Gandalf told you nothing?"

"Gandalf did not tell us much of anything, let alone about such creatures."

"Then I think it is not for me to say more – lest terror should keep you from your journey. For it seems to me that you have set out only just in time, if indeed you are in time. You must now make haste, and neither stay nor turn back; for the Shire is no longer any protection to you."

"I cannot imagine what information could be more terrifying than your hints and warnings," exclaimed Frodo. "I knew that danger lay ahead, of course; but I did not expect to meet it in our own Shire. Can’t a hobbit walk from the Water to the River in peace?"

"But it is not your own Shire," said Gildor. "Others dwelt here before hobbits were; and others will dwell here again when hobbits are no more. The wide world is all about you: you can fence yourselves in, but you cannot for ever fence it out."

"I know – and yet it has always seemed so safe and familiar. What can I do now? My plan was to leave the Shire secretly, and make my way to Rivendell; but now my footsteps are dogged, before we ever get to Buckland."

"I think you should still follow that plan," said Gildor. "I do not think the Road will prove too hard for your courage. But if you desire clearer counsel, you should ask Gandalf. I do not know the reason for your flight, and therefore I do not know by what means your pursuers will assail you. These things Gandalf must know. I suppose that you will see him before you leave the Shire?"

" That's the plan," said Severus. " But that is another thing that makes me anxious. We have been expecting Gandalf for many days. He was come to Hobbiton at the latest two nights ago; but he has never appeared. We don't know where he is. Should we wait for him?"

Gildor was silent for a moment. "I do not like this news," he said at last. "That Gandalf should be late, does not bode well. But it is said: Do not meddle in the affairs of Wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger..." Severus smirked at the notion, "...the choice is yours: to go or wait."

"And it is also said," answered Frodo: "Go not to the Elves for counsel, for they will say both no and yes."

"Is it indeed?" laughed Gildor. "Elves seldom give unguarded advice, for advice is a dangerous gift, even from the wise to the wise, and all courses may run ill. But what would you? You have not told me all concerning yourself; and how then shall I choose better than you? But if you demand advice, I will for friendship’s sake give it. I think you should now go at once, without delay; and if Gandalf does not come before you set out, then I also advise this: do not go alone. Take such friends as are trusty and willing. Now you should be grateful, for I do not give this counsel gladly. The Elves have their own labours and their own sorrows, and they are little concerned with the ways of hobbits, or of any other creatures upon earth. Our paths cross theirs seldom, by chance or purpose. In this meeting there may be more than chance; but the purpose is not clear to me, and I fear to say too much."

"I am deeply grateful," said Frodo; "but I wish you would tell me plainly what the Black Riders are. If I take your advice I may not see Gandalf for a long while, and I ought to know what is the danger that pursues me."

"Is it not enough to know that they are servants of the Enemy?" answered Gildor. "Flee them! Speak no words to them! They are deadly. Ask no more of me! But my heart forbodes that, ere all is ended, you, Frodo son of Drogo, will know more of these fell things than Gildor Inglorion. May Elbereth protect you!"

"But where shall I find courage?" asked Frodo. "That is what I chiefly need."

"Courage is found in unlikely places," said Gildor. He spoke wisely like a deranged old wizard that Severus used to know. "Be of good hope! Sleep now! In the morning we shall have gone; but we will send our messages through the lands. The Wandering Companies shall know of your journey, and those that have power for good shall be on the watch. I name you both Elf-friend; and may the stars shine upon the end of your road! Seldom have we had such delight in strangers, and it is fair to hear words of the Ancient Speech from the lips of other wanderers in the world." Frodo felt sleep coming upon him, even as Gildor finished speaking.

"I will sleep now," he said; and the Elf led him to a bower beside Pippin, and he threw himself upon a bed and fell at once into a dreamless slumber.

Severus watched him sleep and for a moment as did Gildor. Unlike his followers, Gildor did not pay much attention to him, his eye was solely of that of Frodo. But now that his questions were answered and Frodo was now asleep, his eyes sought that of Severus. He looked deeply within him but Severus's shields were not touched. Gildor mimicked the actions of the other elves, searching him before landing upon his chest. A curious frown made its way upon his lips, but he said nothing. It was not him to offer words of what ever laid beneath Severus's tunic and he left with the others. Severus watched for a few moments before placing wards and falling asleep.

  



	8. Traveling Through the Night

The next morning, Severus was the first to awaken. It was still dark out and the sun would barely rise in an hour. Frodo and the rest still remained in deep sleep and Severus did not want to wake them, but he did notice that there laid a basket filled with fruit, water, and bread. The elves had left them food and had most likely left not long ago.

Severus did not get all the time to think about it, but Severus lightly touched his chest and felt the pendant that laid upon it. All of the elves had watched him and he was sure that they talked about him as well. Even Gildor had finally noticed that something was amiss, but none of the elves spoke a word to him.

This whole time, Severus has had this necklace, never really understanding what it was for or what it symbolized, but he was sure that they did. Or, at the very least, they knew something about it. Severus would not dismiss Gandalf’s words, he was sure he was here to help Frodo, but there had to be something else. Could this necklace symbolize divine intervention? Was it what allowed him to venture to this world? Or was there something else entirely? There were so many questions that Severus had when he first came and many of them remain unanswered despite the many years he’s been here in Middle Earth.

He suspected that he should have mentioned it to Gandalf. However, if the elves were able to take sight of it so easily, then perhaps Gandalf was able to do the same. Yet, none of it made sense to him. While there exist a vast amount of books, none that he had come across even mentioned magic or jewelry. He might find answers in Rivendell, but if the Lord there was anything like Gildor, he might not find guidance there either.

It was troubling. He barely even thought about it all these years. Severus somewhat believed that it be a great mystery that would just exist without rhyme or reason and had mostly been forgotten about it throughout his time here. However, with the elves, Severus now knew that there was more to it than he originally thought and it worried him that he did not have an answer to what it may be.

Yet, it was not important now, thought Severus as he gazed at the hobbits. He will have to worry about it later and he must focus on getting them to safety. With that in mind, Severus rose and did a quick scouting before returning to find Sam and Pippin awaking. He lit a small fire and made some tea and spread out the food for breakfast. Frodo had not slept well the last few nights before their departure from the Shire and Severus deemed that he should sleep a while longer before they leave for the day.

The morning was cool and a little wet from morning dew. It was silent with the exception of the chatter of the birds and the sounds of the leaves brushing against one another. Even Pippin was quiet as he ate, but he soon started to gossip silently with Sam before Frodo had woken up. It was still early morning and the sun had been out for a while now and he seemed to bask in it like McGonagall on a beautiful summer day. It was not long before he came and Pippin and Sam presented him with his share of breakfast.

“They have left us fruit and drink, and bread,” said Pippin. “Come and have your breakfast. The bread taste almost as good as it did last night. I did not want to leave you any, but Sam and Mr.Snape insisted.”

Insisted was one word for it. Despite Severus and Sam both telling him to leave some for Frodo, Pippin still sneakily tried to grasp Frodo’s share. It was only because of Severus’s sharp eyes did he fail miserably. In the end, though, Severus gave him his share since he was not hungry and had preferred to drink tea in replace of his black coffee.

“So, what is the plan for today?” asked Pippin once Frodo sat down by Sam and began to eat. Severus poured him some tea and Frodo offered him his thanks.

“We will walk to Bucklebury as quickly as we can to meet up with Mr. Brandybuck,” replied Severus.

“Do you think we shall see those Riders again,” continued Pippin.

“We might which is why we must move quickly and quietly. Hopefully, we will be able to pass the river without further witnesses. The less who know where we are going the better.”

  
“What did Gildor say about them?”

“Not much,” answered Frodo. “Mostly just hints and riddles”

“What about the sniffling?”  
  
“We didn’t get time to discuss it”

“Well, I think you should have. I am sure it would have been important."  

“And I’m sure that you should leave Frodo to eat his breakfast peacefully, Mr.Took. Either way, I am sure Gildor would not have told us more than what he already did. It best we avoid them to the best of our abilities and hope for the best. Until then, do not ask any more foolish questions,” said Snape. Frodo was getting aggravated and it would be best to cut the discussion before Pippin started to ask too many questions.  

Pippin left them soon after and began to sing quietly to himself towards the edge of the green. Severus knew that something was troubling Frodo, he could see clear as day, but it was only when Frodo signaled him closer to he discuss his woes that he understood.

“It is one thing to take them with me out of the Shire, but I do think that I can take with me into exile- even if they are willing to come. This is my job and mine alone. I don’t even think I should take Sam,” whispered Frodo lightly.

Severus stared at him carefully and sipped his tea before he speaking. “Sam is very loyal to you, and even if you were to leave quickly without notice, I have no doubt that Sam would follow you even if you two were miles apart. It is dangerous Frodo and while I am more capable of protecting you and myself, not even I could persuade Sam to depart from you. Besides, if they caught your scent, then they might have caught all of ours. It is best that we keep them with us until we reach safety.”

Severus’s words seem to make Frodo more worried than before and Severus winced internally at what he said.

It was only moments after that they both remembered that Sam was near and had watched them both as they had silently exchanged words.  
  
“Well, Sam!” started Frodo with a tight smile. “I am leaving the shire as soon as I can. I will barely stay a day at Crickhollow if it can be helped.”  
  
“Very good, sir!”

“You still wish to come with me?”  
  
“I do.”

“It is going to be very dangerous, Sam. It is already dangerous. Most likely neither of us will come back.”

Severus could see through Frodo’s front easily and for the briefest moments, he could see that Sam was scared at his words. He was not stupid enough to not know that there laid danger up ahead and he knew that Sam understood that this was Frodo offering him a way out, but as he suspected, Sam agreed that he would still go. Ever loyal.

“Well, if you don’t come back, sir, then I shall not, that’s certain,” said Sam. “ _Don’t you leave him!_ They said to me. _Leave him!_ I said. I never mean to. I am going with him if he climbs to the Moon; and if any of those Black Riders try to stop him, they’ll have to go through Sam Gamgee to reckon with, I said. And they laughed.”

“Who are _they_ , and what are you talking about?”

“The Elves, sir. We had a talk last night, and they seemed to know you were going away, so I didn't see the use of denying it. Wonderful folk, Elves sir! Wonderful!”

“That they are. Do you still like them now that you have had a closer look at them?”

“I do. They are a bit above my likes and dislikes, so to speak,” answered Sam.

“Do you still want to leave the Shire now that you have seen them?” Frodo asked.

“Yes, sir. I don’t know how to say it, but after last night I feel different. I seem to see ahead, in a kind of way. I know we are going to take a very long road, into darkness; but I know I can’t turn back. It isn’t to see Elves now, nor dragons, nor mountains, that I want – I don’t rightly know what I want: but I have something to do before the end, and it lies ahead, not in the Shire. I must see it through, sir, if you understand me.”

“Not entirely, but I am happy. We will go together.”

Frodo soon finished his breakfast and they began to clean up any reminiscents of their stay. Frodo had then called Pippin over from his gazing.

“Ready to go,” he said as Pippin ran up. “We must be getting off at once. We slept late, and there are a good many miles to go.”

“You slept late, you mean,” said Pippin. “I was up long before, and we are only waiting for you to finish eating and thinking.”

“I have finished both now. And I am going to make for Bucklebury Ferry as quickly as possible. I am not going out of the way, back to the road we left last night: I am going to cut straight across the country from here.”

“Then you are going to fly,” said Pippin. “You won’t cut straight on foot anywhere in this country.”

“We can cut straighter than the road anyway,’ answered Frodo. ‘The Ferry is east from Woodhall, but the hard road curves away to the left – you can see a bend of it away north over there. It goes around the north end of the Marish so as to strike the causeway from the Bridge above Stock. But that is miles out of the way. We could save a quarter of the distance if we made a line for the Ferry from where we stand.”

“Shortcuts make long delays,” argued Pippin. “The country is rough around here, and there are bogs and all kinds of difficulties down in the Marish – I know the land in these parts. And if you are worried about Black Riders, I can’t see that it is any worse meeting them on a road than in a wood or a field.”

“It is less easy to find people in the woods and fields,” answered Frodo. “And if you are supposed to be on the road, there is some chance that you will be looked for on the road and not off it.”

“All right!” said Pippin. “I will follow you into every bog and ditch. But it is hard! I had counted on passing the Golden Perch at Stock before sundown. The best beer in the Eastfarthing, or used to be: it is a long time since I tasted it.”

“That settles it!” said Frodo. “Shortcuts make delays, but inns make longer ones. At all costs, we must keep you away from the Golden Perch. We want to get to Bucklebury before dark. What do you say, Sam?”

“I will go along with you, Mr. Frodo,” said Sam (in spite of private misgivings and a deep regret for the best beer in the Eastfarthing). “Then if we are going to toil through bog and briar, let’s go now!’ said Pippin.

The day was as hot as it was yesterday, but from the looks of the clouds, it looked like it would rain. The journey was long as they made their way to the Ferry. Frodo suspected that they had to walk 18 miles before they would reach it.

They took many twists and turns and Severus was once again thankful for not wearing his cloak or his robes. The travel was long and tiring and he could see that the hobbits had wished to turn around and try an easier route. But Frodo was correct that this would better. They would be prey to the riders if they were out in the open. At least this way, they would be able to stay hidden.

This road was thick with green and trees, barely offered room for a horse to gallop through it and the Black Riders would have difficulty going through it if not on foot themselves.

They had walked for hours and it was only recently that Severus felt that someone was watching them. He gazed back but found no one. A breeze past through and he heard soft whispers from the trees before his gaze caught that of a figure high above in an open clearing at the top of the green bank from which they had just climbed down from.

It was hard to see at first, but there was no mistake that it was a horse standing and beside it stood a black figure.

Frodo soon noticed that Severus was lagging behind and had caught sight of what he was looking at. They had no choice but to continue and they should hurry. Even with the troubles of reaching them now, the rider was still too close for Severus's liking and they rushed into thick bushes beside a stream.

Severus listened carefully for anything else that might hint the rider’s location, but there was nothing. He placed a quick ward that would allow them to hide a bit a longer, but it would not last. The hill was very steep and clogged with rocks, trees, and thorns. The rider would have to take a detour to get down, but he had still found them and would find them again eventually if they did not make haste.

Beyond Stock-brook, that they came again to a belt of trees: tall oaks, for the most part, with here and there an elm tree or an ash. The ground was fairly level, and there was little undergrowth, but the trees were too close for them to see far ahead. The leaves blew upwards in sudden gusts of wind, and spots of rain began to fall from the overcast sky. Then the wind died away and the rain came streaming down. They trudged along as fast as they could, over patches of grass, and through thick drifts of old leaves; and all about them the rain pattered and trickled. They did not talk, but kept glancing back, and from side to side.

They walked for another few miles before they took rest at an elm tree before they ate a quick lunch. They found that the elves had left extra food and drink in their bags, especially a clear drink that smelled of flowers and was almost a pale gold in color.

Severus took a quick walk around the area before joining them for some fruit and bread. By then, most of the bottle was gone and the hobbits were laughing and talking merrily.

Bringing the bottle to his nose, Severus could smell many things, all sweet and wonderous, but there was also one thing that he nearly caused him to drop it all together. There was a faint smell of honey, charred oak, and juniper berries, but there was something very faint, barely noticeable: barley.

It was a wine of sorts that Severus did not taste the night before, but it would explain why Sam and Pippin had fallen asleep quite easily. They were light drinkers and sleepy ones at that, the late night along with a long travel had made them tired, especially with the slight dosage of the drink, but now they were awake and feeling the high of alcohol.

Severus, unfortunately, did not have a bottle of potion to remove it from their systems and he felt slightly agitated that the elves would bestow such a thing in their bags but there was nothing that he could do about it now.

The hobbits began to sing and they only got louder and louder. He was debating whether or not to place a silencing charm up or to snap at them for their idiocy when they heard a long drawn wail come down from the wind. Instantly, all of them hushed and held their breath. The hobbits seemed to sobber from the sound alone.

Frodo leaped to his feet and stood beside Severus who already had his wand at the ready and stood in front of them with an arm stretch out to guard them.

Another cry rang out and it was heard more clearly. It sounds like a cry of something evil and lonely, not human but a creature of something dark. However, it sounded almost faint as if it was moving away, but it was still chilling to hear. There was almost a buzz in Severus’s ear that nearly caused him to wince in pain, but he barely kept it at bay. Soon, the sound was long gone and only the trees’ whisperers remained. They were not reassuring.

“What was that?” Pippin asked, at last, breaking the silence. “If that was a bird, it was no bird that I have ever heard.”

“It was no bird,” whispered Frodo and he clung to the ring upon his neck. Fear graced his eyes and Severus knew that he was worried. They could not make out the cry, though they were sure that there were some words in it, they did not know what it was. They both knew that it was not just a simple cry, but a signal but they don’t know for who, where, or why. There was no mistake, they packed their things and left.

Before long, the woods came to a sudden end. They had turned too far south and could see Bucklebury across the River, but it was now on their left. There was no choice but to continue forward across the clearing and to go about doing so as quickly as they could. From here, it looked as if they did not travel far and it was making Severus troubled with the thought.

They continued to walk until they came to a meadow. The sun was high and the air was warm and light. There was a soft breeze that would pass and it felt like any other day at the Shire. The Black Riders almost seem to wash away like a dream, a phantom of the woods.

They continued on until they came to an edge of a huge turnip field and a stout gate. Pippin stopped suddenly and gazed towards the north.

“I know these fields and this gate!” he said. “This is Bamfurlong, old Farmer Maggot’s land. That’s his farm away there in the trees.”

“One trouble after another!” said Frodo, looking nearly as much alarmed as if Pippin had declared the lane was the slot leading to a dragon’s den. The others looked at him in surprise.

“What’s wrong with old Maggot?” asked Pippin. “He’s a good friend to all the Brandybucks. Of course he’s a terror to trespassers, and keeps ferocious dogs – but after all, folk down here are near the border and have to be more on their guard.”

“I know,” said Frodo. “But all the same,” he added with a shamefaced laugh, “I am terrified of him and his dogs. I have avoided his farm for years and years. He caught me several times trespassing after mushrooms when I was a youngster at Brandy Hall.

“On the last occasion, he beat me, and then took me and showed me to his dogs. ‘See, lads,’ he said, ‘next time this young varmint sets foot on my land, you can eat him. Now see him off!’ They chased me all the way to the Ferry. I have never got over the fright – though I daresay the beasts knew their business and would not really have touched me.”

Pippin laughed. “Well, it’s time you made it up. Especially if you are coming back to live in Buckland. Old Maggot is really a stout fellow – if you leave his mushrooms alone. Let’s get into the lane and then we shan’t be trespassing. If we meet him, I’ll do the talking. He is a friend of Merry’s, and I used to come here with him a good deal at one time.”

They continued down the lane until they came to a wooden gate that was open at the wall of the lane. As they came closer, a broke of barks came out and Severus watched as three large dogs came out. A loud voice was heard shouting.

Immediately, Frodo and Sam stood frozen, nearly clinging to the wall as they gazed at the dogs. Pippin walked a few steps ahead and they barely seem to notice him. The largest dog stood in front of Frodo while the other two stood in front of Sam and himself. They would stare, sniff, and snarl if anyone of them moved, let alone breath. But with one look from Severus, the dogs seem to shrink in response, but they did not leave.

The dogs were soon followed by a broad, thick hobbit with a round red face. Pippin greeted him happily and the man seemed to do the same. Pippin introduced them and while the hobbit stared at Severus a little distrustfully, he had recognized his name as the stranger tall fellow that seemed to haunt the shire. Severus found more amusing than insulting and did not bother to correct him.

“It is lucky for you that I know you. I was just going to set my dogs on any strangers. There are some funny things been going on today. Of course, we do get queer folk wandering in these parts at times. Too near the river,” he said, shaking his head. “But there was this fellow that was most outlandish. He won’t be crossing my land without leaving a second time, not if I can help it.”  
“What do you mean?” asked Pippin.

“You mean you haven’t seen him,” asked the farmer surprised. “He went up the lane towards the causeway not a while back. He was a funny man and was asking funny questions. Perhaps you should come inside and we can talk in a place more comfortable. I have a drop of good ale on tap if you and your friends are willing Mr. Took.”

It was clear that the man would discuss matters with them and it would be best to know anything about the rider if it was indeed the same person that the hobbit was talking about. However, they really should waste any more time since it was getting late and it was already beginning to turn to dusk. The hobbits looked at Severus for confirmation, but he merely shrugged and look at Frodo instead who agreed almost hesitantly.

“What about the dogs?” asked Frodo anxiously. The farmer laughed and assured him that they would not harm him.

When they had entered and once the beer had been served Pippin had formally introduced the group to the farmer and he looked almost surprised at Frodo which did not bold well with Severus.

“Funny that,” started the farmer after he took a rather large sip of his ale. Severus accepted the drink but did not drink it. He did not think that the hobbits should be either if earlier in the day was anything to go by, but he allowed it for now if they only drank the one cup. Though Pippin was eyeing his rather thoughtfully once his glass was half gone.

“I might not know where you lot might be coming from and where you might be going- and I will not ask! But that strange fellow seemed very keen on you, Mr. Baggins. He came riding on a big black horse in at the gate. All black he was himself, too, and cloaked and hooded up, as if he did not want to be known. ‘‘Now what in the Shire can he want?’’ I thought to myself. We don’t see many of the Big Folk over the border; and anyway I had never heard of any like this black fellow. I warned him off that he would do better to go back on the road. I didn’t like the looks of him ad when Grip came up to him, he took one sniff and ran. That was enough for me to know that this fellow was just no good.

“‘I come from yonder,’’ he said, slow and stiff-like, pointing back west, over my fields, if you please. ‘‘Have you seen Baggins?’’ he asked in a queer voice and bent down towards me. I could not see any face, for his hood fell down so low; and I felt a sort of shiver down my back. But I did not see why he should come riding over my land so bold. ‘

‘‘Be off!’’ I said. ‘‘There are no Bagginses here. You’re in the wrong part of the Shire. You had better go back west to Hobbiton – but you can go by road this time.’’ ‘‘Baggins has left,’’ he answered in a whisper. ‘‘He is coming. He is not far away. I wish to find him. If he passes will you tell me? I will come back with gold.’’

‘ ‘‘No you won’t,’’ I said. ‘‘You’ll go back where you belong, double quick. I give you one minute before I call all my dogs.’’ ‘He gave a sort of hiss. It might have been laughing, and it might not. Then he spurred his great horse right at me, and I jumped out of the way only just in time. I called the dogs, but he swung off and rode through the gate and up the lane towards the causeway like a bolt of thunder. What do you think of that?’

Everyone was quiet for a moment before Frodo spoke softly. “I don’t know what to think.”

“Well, let me tell you something, Mr. Baggins. It best that you don’t mix yourself up with Hobbiton folk. Either way, I am glad to see you had some sense left to return to Buckland. And If these black fellows come after you again, I’ll deal with them. I’ll say you’re dead or have left the Shire or anything you like. You must be wondering how you’d be getting to the Ferry now.”

“I am,” replied Frodo. “But we must get there. I am afraid we must be going. Thank you very much indeed for the news and your kindness!  I have been in terror of you and your dogs for 30 years, and while you might find it funny to hear it. It is a pity that I have missed a very good friend indeed. I am sorry that I must leave so soon, but I’ll come back, one day- if given the chance. “

“You’ll be welcome when you come,” said Maggot. “But now I have a notion. It’s near sundown already, and we are going to have our supper; for we mostly go to bed soon after the Sun. If you and Mr. Peregrin and all could stay and have a bite with us, we would be pleased!”

“And so should we!” said Frodo. “But we must be going at once, I’m afraid. Even now it will be dark before we can reach the Ferry.”

“Ah! But if you stay for supper, I got me a small wagon and I’ll drive you to the Ferry. It would save you a good step and time.”

Once again, the hobbits looked at Severus who had now sat stiffly in his seat. His eyes were shrouded in thought and his fingers remained folded tightly as he rested them upon his lips. He looked back at Frodo and allowed him to make the decision.

Frodo accepted the invitation gratefully much to the relief of Pippin and Sam.

The dinner was not grand by any means but was plentiful and a heavy to fill. It was calming to share a meal with a roaring fire near and good company, but Severus barely touched his food or drank anything throughout supper. He ate very little, barely enough to satisfy any sort of hunger, but he remained lost in thought throughout it all. Frodo would gaze at him questioningly, but he resides to leave the man to his thoughts in the end. It was not long before they finished and the hobbits had placed their things on the board and climbed in. Severus soon followed after thanking the farmer’s wife for the meal who stood in the light of the open door.

The traveled rather quickly in the dark. Severus kept a watchful eye on the land and listened for anything that sounded out of the ordinary. Maggins did not light his lantern which was for the best in the end. It would do anyone good to attract attention to themselves now.

It was a bit cold and it was a far travel, 5 miles to say the least. The hobbits huddled together as they wrapped themselves up in each other’s warmth in their cloaks. Severus placed a light heating charm on them to fight the night chill but did nothing else as he sat guard on the end of the wagon.

At last, they had reached the ferry. It was marked by two tall white posts that suddenly loomed up on their right. Farmer Maggot drew in his ponies and the wagon creaked to a halt. They were just beginning to scramble out. And when it had seemed that they had journeyed safely undetected was soon mistaken as they heard the unmistakable sound of hooves heading towards them. It was too late for Severus to place an invisible ward around them all, but Sam rushed Frodo to lay hidden beneath the wagon with some blankets.

Severus moved swiftly forward and held his wand his hand tightly he stood a few feet away from the wagon to meet the Rider alone.

The rider stopped a little more than a few feet from Severus, but it was too dark to really see. As he was going to call for Lumos, Severus felt something different about this rider from before. It was almost familiar.

“What do you want?” cried the farmer from behind him.

“I want Mr. Baggins. Have you seen him? Said a muffled voice- but the voice was the voice of Merrry Brandybucks. Severus had then called for Lumos and with its strong light, the astonished face of Merry came about.

“Meriadoc Brandybuck!” cried out Severus as Merry called out “Mr. Snape!” Severus had nearly hexed Merry and he was barely holding back the urge now.

“Yes, of course! Who did you think it was?”  said Merry coming forward. As he came out of the mist and their fears subsided, he seemed suddenly to diminish to ordinary hobbit-size. He was riding a pony, and a scarf was swathed round his neck and over his chin to keep out the fog.

Frodo sprang out of the wagon to greet him. “So there you are at last!” said Merry. “I was beginning to wonder if you would turn up at all today, and I was just going back to supper. When it grew foggy I came across and rode up towards Stock to see if you had fallen in any ditches. But I’m blest if I know which way you have come. Where did you find them, Mr. Maggot? In your duck-pond?”

“No, I caught ’em trespassing,” said the farmer, “and nearly set my dogs on ’em; but they’ll tell you all the story, I’ve no doubt. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Merry and Mr. Frodo and all, I’d best be turning for home. Mrs. Maggot will be worriting with the night getting thick.”

Mr. Maggot left soon after he presented Frodo with a basket that smelled like mushrooms. The hobbits called out thanks and for safe travels, watching as the last glimmer of his lantern left within the night.

Merry climbed down from his horse and made his way towards the hobbits to greet them happily, but was soon hit behind the head by Severus. Merry glared at him and nursed his head before a grin broke out.

“We better be getting home ourselves,” said Merry. “There is something funny about all of this, but we can talk about it later once we get ourselves inside.”

They turned down the Ferry lane. Merry led the pony over a gangway on the ferry and the rest followed. Merry then pushed slowly off with a long pole. The Brandywine flowed slow and broad before them. On the other side the bank was steep, and up it, a winding path climbed from the further landing. Lamps were twinkling there. Behind loomed up the Buck Hill; and out of it, through stray shrouds of mist, shone many round windows, yellow and red. They were the windows of Brandy Hall, the ancient home of the Brandybucks.

The boat moved slowly across the water and the shore drew nearer. Soon, they had stepped off and Merry was tying up the boat to a post. Pippin was leading the horse up the path and while Sam and Frodo walked closely behind. Severus stayed behind to make sure Merry was fine when he noticed a shadowy figure across the bank.

“What is that,” cried Marry, capturing the attention of the others.

“Something that has been following us,” replied Frodo.

Merry had a few more words to say, but with one look from Severus had him clamming up. 

They continued their trail to the top of the bank, but by then, there was nothing left to be seen. Everything below was now crowded in mist and a deep dread filled Severus.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a while since I had updated anything from any of my stories. I found some time to actually write something even though I should have used it for my papers that are due for finals. The semester is coming to end, so I would hope to write some more for the upcoming weeks in December. 
> 
> School and work have taken most of my time which is why I haven't update as of late, but I should be updating more frequently now to make up for the lost time. I hope you guys like this chapter. I know that it kind of drags a little bit, but I'm trying to rush so that Severus can meet Aragorn. I'm really excited for when he goes to Rivendell; I think it will be interesting when he meets the rest of the characters and the story will actually get to the point. I know I follow pretty close to the books, but its been a while since I've read them so I'm using it as a reference. Plus, there were some characters in the books that weren't shown in the movie like Elrond's sons that I want to bring in. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the new chapter! Until next time!


	9. Unmasked Plans

Frodo’s new home was very different from the one that was left at the Shire. 

There was not much to be seen of it since it was rather dark, but it was rather tall from afar compared to a hobbit hole. Yet, it was still very long and low as one hole should be. There was no upper level and it had a roof of turf with round windows and a large door. 

It was excluded from all other homes near so that no one would notice if one would leave or enter, let alone if anyone dwelt inside. 

As they got closer, the windows were bleak and dark with the shutters locked close. Frodo knocked on the door and Fatty Bolger, who had helped Merry prepare the house, had opened the door. A friendly stream of light came out and they instantly felt the warmth of a fire leak outside. They all rushed inside and found themselves in a hall that had doors on either side and a passage that ran far ahead in the middle of the house. 

“Well,’ started Merry with his arms stretched wide. “What do you think? We have done our best in the short amount of time that we had. After all, Fatty and I barely got the last load yesterday.”

Severus looked around and while the home was different from the one he got comfortable with, there still laid Frodo’s things that were arranged more neatly than Severus thought Merry was capable of. He surprised to find that the few things that Severus had were also set up nicely along the bridge of the wall with some books. Some of his journals and nick-nacks that he had picked up throughout his years were placed well around the hall and he was sure that it would be the same around the house. 

Overall, the place was welcoming and homey and Severus could not help but imagine the rest of his days in this home. He would not mind living here, but alas it was not something that was fated to happen for now, if ever. 

Severus looked Frodo was sure that he felt the same way. In the end, Frodo cried out his delight, but Severus could hear his voice waiver ever so slightly. 

With one look from Frodo, he could feel his unease bleed into Severus. It would be hard for Frodo to leave so soon and to explain such abrupt disappearance would not be easy. It is better to find an answer before they go to bed. Hopefully, they could discuss further plans before supper.

 

* * *

 

They hung their cloaks and the hobbits left their packs on the floor before following Merry down the passage and threw open the door on the far end. Severus rolled his eyes before waving his wand and levitated the packs neatly against the wall beside the door. From afar, he could hear Pippin yell out happily for a bath. 

“Trust me to arrange things better than that!” said Merry as he placed a hand upon his chest and mocked offense. “We can’t begin life at Crickhollow with a quarrel over baths. In that room, there are three tubs and a copper full of boiling water. There are also towels, mats, and soap. Get inside and be quick!”

With those words, all hobbits rushed inside gleefully and Severus snorted at their child play as he followed Fatty and Merry into the kitchen where they were finishing the final preparation for a late supper. There was not yet tea but fresh water and wine.   
There was some singing and splashing in the baths and Severus waited patiently for the three hobbits to finish before supper could be finished and for him to take a clean bath himself. There would be no hot water left, he was sure, but he would do just fine with cold water and warm it up himself with a charm. 

Soon the hobbits left the room one by one and Severus found that the floor barely ceased to be a small lake by the large puddle of water that wet the floor. Severus was almost tempted to make the lot clean it up themselves, but he merely sighed and magic the water away before filling his tube and taking a quick bath himself. 

The rest were already in the kitchen which was warm and lit by the fire. Supper was plentiful and filling, but Severus ate very little- he was still full from what he had eaten earlier that night. He was still astounded by the amount of food these young hobbits could consume on a daily. Merlin forbid should they miss tea time or snacks for they would surely starve, thought Severus. 

There was some small talk of the house and neighbors before Merry return to their travels. 

“Now tell me all about it! I guess that you have been having adventures, which was not quite fair without me. I want a full account; and most of all I want to know what was the matter with old Maggot, and why he spoke to me like that. He sounded almost as if he was scared; if that is possible.”

Frodo sent Severus a quick glance before he looked at his hands which he clutched almost painfully upon his lap. 

“Well, we were all scared,” said Pippin after a pause. “You would be too if you had been chased for two days by Black Riders.”

“Black Riders?” asked Merry, taking a sip of beer.   
  
“They’re black figures that ride on black horses,” answered Pippin before he told Merry all that had happened. Severus did not think it was wise for him to spill the whole thing,   
but neither he nor Frodo made any efforts to stop him.   
  
“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you would be making the whole thing up. Would do you think about it Frodo?”

“Well Frodo has been very tight lip about the whole thing,” said Pippin. “So far, all that we’ve got his Old Maggot’s guess on it having to do with old Bilbo’s treasure.”

“It’s only a guess,” said Frodo rather quickly. Severus’s lips thinned. “Maggot doesn’t know anything.”  
“Old Maggot is a shrewd fellow,” agreed Merry. “But he’s giving us a lot more information than you are.”

“I think,” answered Frodo slowly, “that it was a good guess, as far as it goes. There is a connection with Bilbo’s old adventures, and the Riders are looking, or perhaps one ought to say searching, for him or for me. I also fear, if you want to know, that it is no joke at all; and that I am not safe here or anywhere else.’ He looked around at the windows and walls as if he was afraid they would suddenly give way. The others looked at him in silence and exchanged meaning glances among themselves.

Frodo bit his lip and looked at Sam for a few seconds before his eyes met Severus’s. There were no words spoken between them, but a whole conversation seems to pass by instantly. It was not up to Severus to make these decisions for Frodo. He did not think it is wise to spread such valuable information, whether or not Merry and Pippin are cousins and loyal to Frodo. Gandalf wanted them to make haste and be unseen for a reason. It would be dangerous for everyone. However, they were already part of the group, essentially. They would be tracked if worse came to worse, but was the true questioned lied with if it would be better for them to be fools and remain obvious to the troubles around them or should they learn of the truths and be in constant danger because of it. 

Pippin and Merry shared another glance as they waited patiently for Frodo to come to a decision. 

Frodo sat a little straighter and spoke almost hesitantly. 

“I can’t keep it dark any longer. I have got something to tell you all, but I don’t know quite how to begin.”

“I think I could help you,” said Merry. 

Sam’s, Frodo’s, and Severus’s head shot up to Merry in surprise. 

“What do you mean?” said Frodo anxiously. 

“Well, it's just this my dear Frodo. You are miserable because you don’t know how to say good-bye. You meant to leave the Shire, of course. But danger has come on you sooner than you expected, and now you are making up your mind to go at once. And you don’t want to. We are very sorry for you.” Frodo opened his mouth and shut it again.

For a split second, Severus was shocked that Merry had figured something out. It was not that Merry was completely dimwitted, but he was not exactly the brightest person that Severus had come across. Severus had once watched him fight a door only to realize that he was meant to pull it open instead of push it. Not to mention that he almost started a fight with a tree when he had drunk too much at the bar on Pippin’s birthday last year. But it would seem that Severus stand corrected and Merry was still as oblivious as he was a few nights ago and did not obtain any more intelligence in the short amount of time that they have been apart. 

Soon afterward, Pippin and Merry laughed at their shock expressions. 

“Dear old Frodo!” said Pippin. “Did you really think you had thrown dust in all our eyes? You have not been nearly careful or clever enough for that! You have obviously been planning to go and saying farewell to all your haunts all this year since April. We have constantly heard you muttering: ‘‘Shall I ever look down into that valley again, I wonder’’, and things like that. And pretending that you had come to the end of your money, and actually selling your beloved Bag End to those SackvilleBagginses! And all those close talks with Gandalf.”

“Good heavens!” said Frodo playing along, relief was almost evident on his face. Severus did not miss at how his fingernails seem to pierce his flesh.  “I thought I had been both careful and clever. I don’t know what Gandalf would say. Is all the Shire discussing my departure then?”

“Oh no!” said Merry. “Don’t worry about that! The secret won’t keep for long, of course; but at present it is, I think, only known to us conspirators. After all, you must remember that we do know you well, and are often with you. We can usually guess what you are thinking.”

Severus snorted into his drink rather undignified, but nobody seemed to notice except for Frodo who offered him a smile. Sam, on the other hand, looked rather confused with the whole thing. His face looked like he was on the border of denying Merry’s claim and keeping silent. 

“Yes, yes,” continued Merry looking rather pleased with himself. He was leaning against his seat and had his arms stretch far.  “I knew Bilbo, too. To tell you the truth, I have been watching you rather closely ever since he left. I thought you would go after him sooner or later; indeed I expected you to go sooner, and lately, we have been very anxious. We have been terrified that you might give us the slip, and go off suddenly, all on your own as he did. Ever since this spring we have kept our eyes open, and done a good deal of planning on our own account. You are not going to escape so easily!”

“But I must go,” said Frodo rather solemnly. “It cannot be helped, dear friends. It is wretched for us all, but it is no use for you to try and stop me. But please, since you have guessed so much, help me and do not keep me.”

“Oh, but you do not understand, dear cousin!” said Pippin.  “You must go and therefore we must, too. Merry and I are coming with you. Sam and Mr. Snape are excellent fellows. Sam here would jump down a dragon’s throat to save you if he did not trip over his own feet. And I am sure that Mr. Snape could scare almost anything that you will come across- ah! No offense, Mr. Snape.”  
“None taken,” said Severus dryly. 

“My dear hobbits,” said Frodo. “I cannot allow it. You speak of a danger, but you do not understand. This is no treasure-hunt, no there-and-back journey. I am leaving deadly peril into deadly peril.”

“Of course we understand,” stated Merry firmly. “That is why we have decided to come. We know that the Ring is no laughing matter, but we are going to do our best to help you against the Enemy.”

“The Ring?” cried Frodo. Severus had nearly spit out his tea but ended up coughing rather loudly and aggressively. Sam looked torn between patting him on the back or sitting still lest he wants to be turned into a toad. 

Merry spared Severus a glance briefly before he brought his focus back to Frodo

“Yes, the ring,” said Merry. “My dear old hobbit, you don’t allow for the inquisitiveness of friends. I have known about the existence of the Ring for years – before Bilbo went away, in fact; but since he obviously regarded it as secret, I kept the knowledge in my head, until we formed our conspiracy. I did not know Bilbo, of course, as well as I know you; I was too young, and he was also more careful – but he was not careful enough.’  
“I saw him use it when I was younger. I was startled. And ever since then, I kept my eyes open. But you got to admit, Frodo, that it is very intriguing. I have spent many years spying. I had even read his secret book.”

Frodo looked shocked beyond words, but Merry waved him off. “It was only once. I only got a quick look. It was quite hard to get. He never leaves it lying around. I don’t suppose you got his book,  do you Frodo?”

“No. It is not at Bag End. He must have taken it with him.”

“Tis too bad,” continued Merry. “No matter. I have kept his secret up until this spring with things got rather serious. Pippin and I formed our conspiracy and knew that all this meant business. It was very hard at first. You’re not a very easy nut to crack; Gandalf being the same. Mr. Snape didn’t make it all that easier either- constantly looming over us and watching us as if we were up to no good-”

“Well, it would seem that you were, indeed, up to something,” interrupted Severus.  Merry gave him a tight smile. “But even then, you two would never have come up to such conclusions, even with Bilbo’s slip up. There had to be someone else who conspired with you.”

Severus’s eyes narrowed in suspicion before the fell upon Sam who looked a little pale. Soon Frodo’s eyes followed his and found himself staring dumbly at Sam, a flicker of betrayal flashed in his eyes.

“Sam!”

“Yes, sir!” said Sam. “Begging your pardon, sir! But I meant no wrong to you, Mr. Frodo, nor to Mr. Gandalf nor to you Mr. Snape for that matter. He has some sense, mind you; and when you said go alone, he said no! take someone as you can trust.”

“But it does not seem that I can trust anyone,” said Frodo. Sam looked at him unhappily.

“It all depends on what you want,” put in Merry. “You can trust us to stick to you through thick and thin – to the bitter end. And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours – closer than you keep it yourself. But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a word. We are your friends, Frodo. Anyway: there it is. We know most of what Gandalf has told you. We know a good deal about the Ring. We are horribly afraid – but we are coming with you, or following you like hounds.”

Severus watched Frodo, waiting. He looked scared but relieved beyond measure. But his nose was slightly scrunched up and he looked like he was thinking very hard on what to do. It was moments like these that Severus was almost tempted to take a closer look into Frodo’s mind. He never did and he didn’t suppose that he would start to do so now. In the end, however, Frodo seems to come to a rather hefty conclusion as he soon agreed to their coming. 

They sang and dance. Severus watched them with a ghost of a smile. Frodo gazed upon him with flushing cheeks and a bright smile. 

“In any case, I think we should go to be for we must leave soon.”

“Do you really mean to start before the break of dawn?” said Pippin.

Severus rose from his seat, capturing the attention of the young hobbits. 

“It is not safe for us to stay in a place too long, especially if those Black Riders are following us and know where to look. Gildor had advised us to not wait and even though some of us would wish to wait for Gandalf, it is not wise. Either we leave before they come or we wait for their arrival.”

They sat quietly in thought before Frodo nodded in agreement. “I would like to wait for Gandalf, but I supposed it would be best we leave as soon as we can. We must not travel through the North gate since my leave will be known at once. We have to keep it secret to buy us some time, hopefully, a few days at least. Our only choice is to go off in an unexpected direction” 

“You don’t mean the Old Forest! That it is as dangerous as any rider!” cried Fatty

“No,” said Severus firmly. “As dangerous as it may be, we will have to take our chances. Frodo is right. It is the only way to get off without being followed immediately. With some luck, we will have a good head start.”

Either way, no matter what may be in the Old Forest, nothing can compare to the dangers that lay inside the Forbidden Forest. Severus had frequently visited during his Hogwarts years to get away from everyone, especially his last year when Lily had broken off their friendship. Even as a grown man, Severus would travel inside the forest to relieve some steam or to hunt for ingredients. He has had his fair share of dangerous in dark forests. He was sure that they would be fine, but he still does not know what lies inside them besides from what he has gathered from legends and books. 

With that in mind, Severus had chosen that Fatty should remain behind then and report to Gandalf should he come this way. It was better to not leave a written message. Soon, they all prepared for bed. Severus left soon afterward once all the hobbits were inside their rooms. 

Merry and Pippin had prepared ponies and bags for the trip before their arrival. True to their words, they have been preparing and seek to follow on this journey. 

After a quick scout of the house, Severus checked the ponies and bags briefly before placing a feather light charm on the bags. With that done, Severus spent an hour placing upwards across the land and house. He focused more on the house but walked far out to place an alarm to alert him should anyone or anything be trespassing upon it. Once everything was done, Severus went into his own room where he packed his bag with extra supplies and got ready for bed himself. It would be a long journey ahead and he would need as much sleep as he could get. With that, Severus blew out the candles and disappeared into the night. 

  
  


  
  



	10. The Forest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I said that I would stick to the story, but I decided that I would cut out the whole business about the forest and with Tom Bombadil. I want everyone to meet the lone ranger already. I have already started some future chapters and I am now on break for the holidays so look forward to more updates.

Severus was not the first to wake up the next morning. Sleep clung to him desperately, but the soft knocking upon his door kept him awake. 

When Severus got up and opened the door, he was only mildly surprised to find Sam waiting in the hall with a candle. 

“I don’t mean to be rude sir, but it is already half past four and Merrry had sent me to wake you up. He’s waking up Mr. Frodo right now and I’m preparing breakfast which is almost ready.”

Severus offered him his thanks and watched as Sam scurried off down the hall to the kitchens. Merry soon came out of Frodo’s room that was next to his and offered Severus a nod before following Sam to the kitchens. 

By five, everyone was finally awake and breakfast had already been served. It was a small breakfast by hobbit means, but there was still plenty of eggs, bacon, fruit, bread, and cheese. By six, all the hobbits were preparing to leave. Sam helped Frodo get on his horse which was a small brown little thing with white streaks. For Severus, Merry brought him a black horse that shimmered with the break of dawn. 

Since Merry knew the grounds better than the rest, he led the group while Severus surveyed the back. 

They rode for an hour before they came across a hedge to which Merry led them to a hollow where a tunnel had laid beneath it. Here, Fatty wished them well and for safe travels, but not before Severus ordered Fatty to keep guard and to protect the house and gave him strict instructions to not touch any of his things. After a thorough lecture, Fatty nodded his understanding and Severus left with the rest.   
On the other side of the tunnel was a black gate of thickset iron bars. Merry got down and unlocked them. 

“There!’ said Merry. “You have left the Shire, and are now outside, and on the edge of the Old Forest.” 

“Are the stories about it true?” asked Pippin. 

“I don’t know what stories you mean,’ Merry answered. “If you mean the old bogey-stories Fatty’s nurses used to tell him, about goblins and wolves and things of that sort, I should say no. At any rate, I don’t believe them. But the Forest is odd. Everything in it is very much more alive, more aware of what is going on, so to speak, than things are in the Shire. And the trees do not like strangers. They watch you. They are usually content merely to watch you, as long as daylight lasts, and don’t do much. Occasionally the most unfriendly ones may drop a branch, or stick a root out, or grasp at you with a long trailer. But at night things can be most alarming, or so I am told. I have only once or twice been in here after dark, and then only near the hedge. I thought all the trees were whispering to each other, passing news and plots along in an unintelligible language.”

Severus quirked a brow at that and found himself listening in to the whispers of the trees more intently. As Merry said, there was a voice that carried off with the wind. Actually, there were many voices- all faint with age. He couldn’t quite make out their words, but there was some level of understanding. It reminded him briefly of when he first came to Middle Earth, but the experience now lacks the original splendor and was instead clouded with something much darker. It reminded him faintly of the Forbidden Forest, but it lacked its gloom and misty haze. 

However, that soon changed as they travel deeper and deeper into the forest. 

At first, the ground was low and lacked undergrowth, but it rose steadily and the trees became taller, darker, and thicker. They were all in different shapes and sizes, twisting and turning in various forms. All of them were shrouded and covered in a thick moss of blues, greens, and greys. 

Merry led the way by Frodo’s request but he soon stopped and looked confused. Pippin commented on his lack of direction before Merry looked closer to his left and pointed ahead. 

“Well, well!” he said. “These trees do  _ shift _ . There is a Bonfire Glade in front of us, but the path to it had seemed to have moved away!”

His words were not very reassuring in the least, but Severus sighed in retaliation before following them to a clearing. 

As they got closer, there was more light coming their way. They found themselves in a circular space with no trees and light grass. The sun was barely up. The small amount of light was rising with hues of pink, orange, and purple over the treetops. Across from them was a clearing that traveled deeper into the forest.  
The hobbits rode ahead of him and were talking to each other of stories and news. Severus almost seem to lag behind them as he kept his ears open for anything odd, but he only heard the soft brushes of the leaves. Sometimes there would a groan and a moan, but the trees here were old and very much alive. 

As a passing tree came close, Severus had a sudden urge to reach out and gently touch the bark of the tree. It seemed to be warm and a soft light glowed where his hand laid. For a split second, Severus felt uncontrollable rage, despair, and surrender. Images flashed briefly in his head of trees and fire, but he could barely process what he saw. And just like that, it was over. 

Severus blinked away the haze and looked at his hands in surprise. Something like that had never happened to him before. It was a vision, he knew, but Severus was not a seer.

Severus looked at the tree and did not find anything special about it. It appeared to be like any other tree.

Severus rubbed at his forehead feeling a migraine forming. It was frustrating beyond measure. It didn’t help that he didn’t know what the vision was for or what it was about. Was it a vision of the past or was it a vision of the future? There were so many possibilities and he didn’t know where to start. 

Severus was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice that the hobbits had stopped and had been calling him. It was only when a large tree branch fell behind him did Severus break from the spell that had taken him. 

When he did notice, his eye’s caught that of Frodo’s whose eyes were filled with worry. 

“Severus?” he called out.  
“I’m fine. Just a bit tired,” answered Severus before directing his horse to meet them. Pippin looked confused as Sam did, but Merry looked strangely suspicious.  
“Are you sure you are alright? We could take a quick rest if you like,” continued Frodo, but Severus declined and told them that they should continue. 

Frodo hesitated, but he soon agreed with a stiff nod. They rode for a few more minutes with Frodo sparing Severus a few glances every now and then, but Severus kept his face stoic.  

But inside, Severus could not shake off the turmoil that seemed to fill him. There was a heavyweight that filled his heart and with every step he took, Severus felt as if his heart would give out. No matter what he did, the feeling would not leave him and he was sure that the forest would consume him. It only seems to get worse when they seem to only travel deeper into the forest instead of out of it. 

They traveled for a very long time and Severus was quite sure that they were almost riding in circles. No matter which road they took, they always seem to find themselves somewhere where they didn't want to be. The hobbits feared that they would get lost, but he was sure that the forest was playing tricks on them. 

Eventually, they were able to make out of the forest in a matter of days. The trip was long and hard and they faced many more troubles along the way. Luckily, they were able to make it to Bree-land. The wooden gates were both haunting as they were relieving. They had traveled for weeks in the forest before they were able to trace a dirt road. Both Frodo and Severus did not think it was safe. They had wanted to take a more secrete route, but Merry stood firmly that they could n’t take any more shortcuts. They would have arrived here much earlier if they had taken the main roads and they wouldn’t have gotten lost. While it might safer to take the long road, Severus could not deny that the faster that they reach Rivendell would be the safest. At least there, they would sanctuary. 

However, it was not up for Severus to make the call and they all waited patiently for Frodo to make up his mind. It was hard for him. Severus could see it clearly on his face. The journey here was difficult and Frodo was tired and cold. Yet, Frodo knew that he could pull through if he had to. But with one glance at the other hobbits, Frodo had already made up his mind. Despite their better judgments, Frodo chose to follow the dirt path. 

“But!- And I do mean but!- if we catch sight of any Black Riders, we must return to the forest.”  
  
The others agreed and they were all in a better mood afterwards. As soon as they left the forest, they all breathed a sigh of relief. A great weight was removed and the overgrowing tension was released. It took them a couple days before they found themselves here at the gates and while they did not meet any of the riders on this trail, Severus knew that something was lurking in the dark. Even if appeared that they were in the clear, it did nothing to ease the deep dread inside him.

 


	11. The Inn

The stars were shining and the white moon offered them lightly as they came at last to the Greenway-crossing where just up ahead was the village. The West Gate was shut, but there was a cloaked man sitting right in front of it. Severus gently kicked his horse and made his way to the front to meet the man. 

As soon as he caught sight of them, the man grabbed his lantern and looked at them in surprise. At first, he only noticed Severus and stared at him with distrust, but the light soon showed him the Hobbits and his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“What do you want, and where do you come from?” he asked. 

“We are here to rest at the inn,” answered Severus as if he was talking to an idiot.

The man stared at them a bit more and had mumbled something under his breath, but Severus did not hear it clearly. 

“We don’t see Shire-folk riding on the Road at night,” he continued making his way to the door. “Forgive me wondering, but what are your names?”

“Our names and our business are our own. There is no need for you to know,” replied Severus hotly. By now he had stepped off the saddle and was now in front of the man. Severus was taller than him and the man looked a bit nervous. 

“It is your business,” agreed the man. “But it also  _ my  _ business to ask questions after nightfall.”

Severus gave the man a look and was about to retort when he was interrupted by Merry.

“We are Hobbits and a man from Buckland. We wished to travel the land and rest here at the in,” said Merry. “I am Mr. Brandybuck. Is that enough for you?”

“Yes, yes,” said the man finally, waving them off like they were annoying flies. “I mean no offense, but you will find more people asking questions when you get inside. You’d be going to The Pony, yea? You’ll find that you’re not the only guest.”

To Severus, that sounded like a warning, and he narrowed his eyes in response. Were they followed? Was someone else searching for them? Or had Gandalf finally made his presence known and was waiting for them at the inn? They were delayed because of the forest and he could have beat them here. Yet, that didn’t seem right at all.  

Severus didn’t really have all that time to think about it since soon after, the man finally opened the gate and allowed them entry. He wished them a good night and left it at that. But Severus knew that the man was still watching them until he lost sight of them.

But, there was something off. The dark shadow that followed them in the forest was close, Severus could feel it and as he gazed back, there remained to be nothing.

 

* * *

 

They continued their journey up a gentle slope and passed several detached houses. For a brief second, Severus thought that he was back at Spinner’s End with all the mismatch houses and broken structures. 

Severus had lived in the Shire for such a long time that to be back in the World of Man was more odd than it was comforting. The dark and looming structures reminded him of the evil of men. A frown settled on his face at the thought and he continued to direct his attention to the Hobbits. Merry seemed more relaxed than the others, and while Frodo and Pippin seemed a little nervous, Sam looked right out terrified. 

Following his eye, Severus found himself looking a that the tall buildings, far taller than anything in the Shire had ever been, and their dark upper windows. It was all menacing and shadows seem to move in the darkness. 

“There is no need to be scared, Mr. Gamgee,” said Severus finally, snapping Sam out his train of thought.  “There are no Black Riders here.”

Sam gave him a nervous look in return but nodded his head in thanks. They continued their way to the inn, and while Sam looked like he would rather be anywhere then there-for some god awful reason, there was nothing wrong with it. It looked rather homey in comparison to the other houses in the village. 

Even from the outside, the inn looked a pleasant house to familiar eyes. It had a front on the Road, and two wings running back on land partly cut out of the lower slopes of the hill, so that at the rear the second-floor windows were level with the ground. There was a wide arch leading to a courtyard between the two wings, and on the left, under the arch, there was a large doorway reached by a few broad steps. The door was open and light streamed out of it. Above the arch, there was a lamp, and beneath it swung a large signboard: a fat white pony reared up on its hind legs. Over the door was painted in white letters: The Prancing Pony by Barliman Butterbur. Many of the lower windows showed lights behind thick curtains. And while they looked very different, Severus felt welcomed here as he did at The Three Broomsticks. But Severus doubt he would find butterbeer, annoying students, and firewisky there. 

As they made their way closer, they can even hear people singing and the Hobbits seem to finally relax. They led their ponies under the arch, and leaving them standing in the yard they climbed up the steps. 

Frodo went first and was nearly bumped into a short fat man with a bald head and a red face. He had a white apron on and was bustling out of one door and in through another, carrying a tray laden with full mugs.

“Can we-” started Frodo, but was cut off by the man. 

“Half- a minute, if you please!” shouted the man over his shoulder and vanished into a babel of voices and a cloud of smoke. In a moment, he was out again, wiping his hands on his apron. 

He gazed at the Hobbits first and then set his eyes on Severus who stood in the back of them. 

“Good evening, Sirs, ” he said. “What may you be wanting.”

“Five beds and stabling for five ponies, if that can be managed…Mr. Butterbur,” said Severus with his usual drawl. 

The man laughed. “That be my name, Barliman Butterbur at your service! You lot wouldn’t happen to be from the Shire, would you? May I ask your names, sirs?”

“Mr. Took and Brandybuck,” said Frodo as he gestured to Merry and Pippin. “And this is Sam Gamgee and Severus Snape. My name is Underhill.”

“Yes!” said Mr. Butterbur, snapping his fingers. “There it is again. I’m sure I recognize those names, but it is gone again! No matter, It will come back when I have had time to think. I’ll see what I can do for you. We don’t often get a party out of the Shire nowadays,  and I should be sorry not to make you feel welcome. But there is such a crowd already in the house tonight as there hasn’t been for long enough…”

“Nob!,” shouted the man, making Sam jump just a bit. “ Where are you, you wooly-footed slowcoach? Nob!” 

“Coming, sir! Coming!” said a cheery-looking Hobbit who boobed out of a door and, upon seeing the travelers, stopped short and stared at them with great interest.

“Where’s Bob,” continued Mr. Butterbur. “You don’t know? Well, find him! Double sharp! I haven’t got six legs, nor six eyes neither! Tell Bob there are five ponies that have to be stabled. He must find room somehow.”

And with that, Nob trotted off with a grin and a wink their way, a playful grin on his lips. 

“Well now, what was I going to say?” said Mr. Butterbur, tapping his forehead. “One thing drives out another, so to speak. I’m that busy tonight, my head is going around. There’s a party that came up the Greenway from down South last night – and that was strange enough, to begin with. Then there’s a traveling company of dwarves going West come in this evening. And now there’s you. If you weren’t hobbits, I doubt if we could house you. But we’ve got a room or two in the north wing that was made special for hobbits when this place was built. On the ground floor as they usually prefer; around windows and all as they like it. I hope you’ll be comfortable.’

“Except, for you, Sir,” he said directly at Severus now. “You’re a bit big for the beds. I am sure that I can find a room for you-”

“There is no need. I’ll make do with the Hobbit housing. I’ve lived there for some quite time now and it will be the same here as it was there. I prefer to remain with them, lest they get into trouble on their own.”

“Right,” said Butterbur, clapping his hands in understanding. “Then we will set up one more bed. I suppose you’ll be wanting supper, I don’t doubt. As soon as may be. This way now!”

He led them a short way down a passage and opened a door. “Here is a nice little parlor!” he said. “I hope it will suit. Excuse me now. I’m very busy. No time for talking. I must be trotting. It’s hard work for two legs, but I don’t get thinner. I’ll look in again later. If you want anything, ring the hand-bell, and Nob will come. If he doesn’t come, ring and shout”

And off he went at last. He seemed capable of an endless stream of talk, however busy he might be, thought Severus. He reminded him a bit of Hagrid if he wasn’t so small. They found themselves in a small and cozy room. There was a bit of bright fire burning on the hearth, and in front of it were some low and comfortable chairs. There was a roundtable, already spread with a white cloth, and on it was a large hand-bell. But Nob, the hobbit servant, came bustling in long before they thought of ringing. He brought candles and a tray full of plates. 

“Will you be wanting anything to drink, masters?’ he asked. ‘And shall I show you the bedrooms, while your supper is got ready?”

They were washed and in the middle of good deep mugs of beer when Mr. Butterbur and Nob came in again. In a twinkling, the table was laid. There was hot soup, cold meats, a blackberry tart, new loaves, slabs of butter, and half a ripe cheese: good plain food, as good as the Shire could show and homelike enough to dispel the last of Sam’s misgivings (already much relieved by the excellence of the beer). 

The landlord hovered around for a little and then prepared to leave them. 

“I don’t know whether you would care to join the company when you have supped,” he said, standing at the door. “Perhaps you would rather go to your beds. Still, the company would be very pleased to welcome you if you had a mind. We don’t get Outsiders – travelers from the Shire, I should say, begging your pardon – often; and we like to hear a bit of news, or any story or song you may have in mind. But as you please! Ring the bell, if you lack anything!”

So refreshed and encouraged did they feel at the end of their supper (about three-quarters of an hour’s steady going, not hindered by unnecessary talk) that Frodo, Pippin, and Sam decided to join the company. Merry said it would be too stuffy. 

“I shall sit here quietly by the fire for a bit, and perhaps go out later for a sniff of the air. Mind your Ps and Qs, and don’t forget that you are supposed to be escaping in secret, and are still on the high-road and not very far from the Shire!”

“All right!” said Pippin. “Mind yourself! Don’t get lost, and don’t forget that it is safer indoors!”

Severus agreed with Merry but knew that neither of them could stray far from the inn. Severus only wanted to stretch his legs after a long ride and followed Merry out the door. The air was cold and refreshing, the smell of earth and rain filled his lungs. 

Together, the two walked silently with one another, simply enjoying the night on their stroll. But, soon Severus mumbled out a spell and placed an invisibility charm on the both of them. Once Severus was sure that they were safe, he took his wand from his sleeves and started to cast multiple spells on the inn and set a perimeter around it. Merry watched him startled at first, and after a quick question of asking him what he was doing, he remained silent and watched Severus until he was finished.

“Will this protect us, then?” Merry finally asked. 

“I believe it will, but I am not sure if these Black Riders will be affected by my magic. I placed them just in case, along with an alarm to notify me should danger be lurking close. We cannot be too careful. You saw where the spell ends, just down the hill. I will be returning inside to watch the other two. Pippin gets a little talkative when he drinks, as you know. I will watch over them. You may continue your walk but remain inside the perimeter. Stand guard if you can,” finished Severus as he placed another charm on Merry. 

Merry watched him walk away. Severus’s black cloak flowed behind him until he was inside the inn once again.

 

* * *

 

Severus found the rest of the Hobbits in the big common-room of the inn. The gathering was large and mixed, and it was a little hard to find them through the crowd mainly about. On the benches were various folk: men of Bree, a collection of local hobbits (sitting chattering together), a few more dwarves, and other vague figures difficult to make out away in the shadows and corners. 

When Severus walked in, a few people offered him a chorus welcome but most watched him curiously. As he made his way to Frodo, who sat by himself, he heard talk of news that was all too familiar. It would seem that there was still trouble in the South. From the other side of the room, and where Severus can see them quite clearly, Sam and Pippin had gathered a large crowd of onlookers as they shared stories and jokes. Pippin had made a group of men and other races laugh at the collapse of the roof of the Town Hole in Michel Delving: Will Whitfoot, the Mayor, and the fattest hobbit in the Westfarthing had been buried in chalk and came out like a floured dumpling. 

As Severus got closer, he saw that a few hobbits came to Frodo and had asked where the Underhills lived and who they were related to. Frodo looked nervous at the questions and did not know how to answer them, but as soon as he caught sight of Severus making his way towards him, he relaxed instantly. 

Noticing that they lost his attention, the other Hobbits turned around to see what he was looking at it and were a bit startled to come face to face with a tall, scary looking man dressed in all black. They stared at Severus for a split second where Severus rose one of his brows in question and they scurried off, but not before telling Frodo that they had something to do. 

Severus watched them go and found Frodo giving him a large smile. Severus smirked in response and gestured Frodo to move over on the bench. 

They talked silently with each other and were rarely disturbed. They mostly talked about the village, their plans after the night, and comments on Sam and Pippin who were very drunk.

It was only much later did Severus finally noticed a strange man in the shadows. He was weather-beaten and was sitting near the wall on the far corner where the fire’s light barely reached. He had a tall tankard in front of him and was smoking a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. His legs were stretched out before him (from sight alone and given the position, Severus guess that he was probably taller than him), showing high boots of supple leather that fitted him well, but had seemed much wear and were now caked with mud. He also had a travel-stained cloak of dark-green cloth that was drawn close to him and despite the heat of the room, he wore a hood that overshadowed his face, but there was a gleam in his eyes that could be seen as he watched Sam and Pippin. 

Severus narrowed his eyes at the stranger and didn’t trust him at all. 

“He’s been here since we got here,” said Frodo suddenly. Severus spared him a look before he focused back on the man. “He’s been listening to all of us and watching us. I didn’t say anything or showed that I noticed. I would have thought he would’ve stopped when you came, but if anything, he seems to be watching us more now.”

Severus’s lips thinned and with a quick wave of his hand to capture the attention of Mr. Butterbur. 

“Who is that man,” asked Severus lowly, with a vague gesture towards the corner of the room. Mr. Butterbur looked quickly and nodded his head when he understood who he was referencing to. 

“I don’t rightly now. He is one of the wandering fold- Rangers we call them. He seldom talks. He disappears for a month or a year, and then he pops up again. He was in and out pretty often last spring, but I haven’t seen him about lately. What his right name is I’ve never heard: but he’s known around here as Strider. Goes about at a great pace on his long shanks; though he doesn’t tell anybody what cause he has to hurry. But there’s no accounting for East and West, as we say in Bree, meaning the Rangers and the Shire-folk, begging your pardon. Funny you should ask about him.”

But at that moment Mr. Butterbur was called away by a demand for more ale and his last remark remained unexplained. Frodo looked at him worriedly and Severus spared the man another look only to find that he was now looking at them as if he had heard their question or their conversation. 

Normally, Severus tried not to enter the minds of others if he could help it. It was mostly used for his spy work for Dumbledore and he never needed it for when he was in the Shire, but he was sorely tempted to do so now. But, Severus did not dive, he merely grazed at his outer thoughts to see what he was thinking and if he would be trouble. 

What he found troubled Severus instead. There was a small glimpse of the ring drawn on paper, but there was also Gandalf as he talked to the strange man. They were here in this in, talking in hush voices of dangers. Gandalf was leaving to find information and had asked the man to do the same.

“One more thing,’ said Gandalf. “Should you find a young hobbit in the company of an older man, watch over them carefully. I fear that there may be a chance I won’t return before their leave. If it is true, direct them to Rivendell. The boy needs to meet with Lord Elrond. I will try to make haste, but as a precaution, protect them if I cannot meet them here.”  
And with that, the memory faded. This man new Gandalf and he asked him for his help. With a look at Frodo, Severus stood up and made his way to the man. He watched him in return but made no change in his stance. 

Severus sat on the other seat and watched the man with a cool look. 

The man paused briefly before he released a puff of smoke and threw back his hood, showing a shaggy head of dark hair, stubble on his cheeks and jaw, flecked grey eyes, and a tan stern face. He was ruggedly handsome and Severus already found himself disliking him.

“I am called Strider,” he said in a low voice. “And you must be, Master Snape, if Butterbur has your name correctly.”

But Severus did not answer him, merely watched him get to the point. Strider didn’t seem to be offended. 

“I have been listening to your small friends, and if I were you, I would stop them from talking too much. Drink, fire, and chance-meeting are pleasant enough, but, well – this isn’t the Shire. There is queer folk about. Though I say it as shouldn’t, you may think,” he added with a wry smile, seeing Severus’s glance. “And there have been even stranger travelers through Bree lately,” he went on, watching Severus’s face. 

Severus returned his gaze but said nothing, and Strider made no further sign. His attention seemed suddenly to be fixed on Pippin. And to the alarm of both Frodo and Severus, Pippin had long since past his success with fat Mayor of Michel Delving and was now w actually giving a comic account of Bilbo’s farewell party. He was already giving an imitation of the Speech and was drawing near to the astonishing Disappearance.

Severus narrowed his eyes in warning and a dark look took over his eyes. To most, it may seem like a harmless tale, but from what Frodo told him, many of the hobbits from Bree have connections to the Shire and have probably heard similar tales. It would be no good to have strange disappearance and the name Baggins to leave the outskirts of the Shire. Had it already reached here, where there are many travelers coming and going, it will not be long for the information to spread. Not to mention they will inquire the whereabouts and hear the tale of how Frodo had left the shire and made his way not far from here. 

“You better do something quickly,” whispered Strider at Severus, but he was already standing and making his way towards Pippin. But Frodo, in all his nervous apprehension, had suddenly jumped up and stood on a table and began to talk. 

The attention of Pippin’s audience was disturbed. Some of the hobbits looked at Frodo and laughed and clapped, thinking that Mr. Underhill had taken as much ale as was good for him. 

Severus watched horrified as Frodo began to finger the things in his pocket which was a habit of his when he was making a speech. But Frodo did not disappear and luckily a hobbit had shouted for a song. 

“A song! A song!” they shouted. “Come on now, master, sing us something that we haven’t heard before!”

Then Frodo stood there gaping at the crowd. And then he started to sing a ridiculous song that Bilbo was rather fond of since he had written himself. Frodo had only sung it once in all the times that they’ve lived together and it was when he came home rather drunk and sad from another year of neither Gandalf or Bilbo.

It was a song about an inn and it seemed rather appropriate. And even though he had captured the crowd with the song, Severus had a hard time steadying his racing heart. 

They made Frodo have another drink, and then begin his song again, while many of them joined in; for the tune was well known, and they were quick at picking up words. For a second, Severus hoped that with Frodo’s quick thinking they will be able to last the night with no trouble, that was before Frodo had jumped and fallen to the floor. And while many people laughed at the noise and had seen him slip, Severus stood frozen as he watched Frodo disappear. 

The local hobbits stared in amazement, and then sprang to their feet and shouted for Barliman. All the company drew away from Pippin and Sam, who found themselves left alone in a corner and eyed darkly and doubtfully from a distance. It was plain that many people regarded them now as the companions of a traveling magician of unknown powers and purpose. But there was one swarthy Bree-lander, who stood to look at them with a knowing and half-mocking expression that made them feel very uncomfortable. Presently he slipped out of the door, followed by the squint-eyed southerner: the two had been whispering together a good deal during the evening.

Severus was about to take out his wand to use Immobilus Maximus to freeze everyone in the inn so that he can obliviate each one of this memory, but Strider pulled him close to his chest and held his wrist of his wand hand. Severus tried to pull him off, but Strider held on tightly. 

The damage was done already, people were talking loudly and some had even left. Even if Severus had casted the spell, he might not have caught everyone. The most he would do would be exposing his magic as well. 

Reluctantly, Severus allowed strider to pull him back to his corner where Frodo remained hidden beneath the table. 

Frodo was no fool and Severus knew that what had happened was an accident, but that did not stop his burning rage at the idiotic stunt that Frodo had done. 

Severus whacked him upside the head and glared dangerously at Frodo. For the first time, Frodo understood why Severus told him that his students never liked him and were instead very fearful of their professor. 

“Why did you do that? That was worse than anything Sam or Pippin could have said! You’ve put your foot in it! Or, should I say, your finger?!”

Frodo looked upset and a little embarrassed at being treated like a child. Strider stood to the side and watched them banter until Severus was getting a little too loud.

“We better wait to discuss this once the uproar has died down. And if you please, Mr. Snape and Mr. Baggins, I would like a quiet word with both of you.”

“What about?” said Severus

“A matter of some importance,” answered Strider, looking Frodo in the eye. “You may hear something to your advantage.”

“Very well,” said Frodo. “We will talk to you later.”

Frodo spared Severus another glance. 

Before long, many of the residents in the bar and in the inn had left or had gone to bed. Once it was just the hobbits, Severus, and Strider, Mr. Butterbur approached Frodo, looking very much put out. 

“Now what have you been doing, Mr. Underhill?” he asked. “Frightening my customers and breaking up my crocks with your acrobatics!”

“I am very sorry to have caused any trouble,’ said Frodo. ‘It was quite unintentional, I assure you. A most unfortunate accident.” 

“All right, Mr. Underhill! But if you’re going to do any more tumbling, or conjuring, or whatever it was, you’d best warn folk beforehand – and warn me. We’re a bit suspicious around here of anything out of the way – uncanny if you understand me; and we don’t take to it all of a sudden.”

“I shan’t be doing anything of the sort again, Mr. Butterbur, I promise you. And now I think I’ll be getting to bed. We shall be making an early start. Will you see that our ponies are ready by eight o’clock?” 

“Very good! But before you go, I should like a word with you in private, Mr. Underhill and Mr. Snape. Something has just come back to my mind that I ought to tell you. I hope that you’ll not take it amiss. When I’ve seen to a thing or two, I’ll come along to your room, if you’re willing.”

“Certainly!” said Frodo. Both wondered how many more private talks they would have this night.   
  
  



	12. Fire

Severus sent Frodo another sharp look once the man had left them alone. He wasn't looking forward to all these meetings this night, but any information was valuable at the moment. And so, Severus swiftly made his way back to their rooms with Frodo following him silently. 

When they had entered, both Pippin and Sam were already seated by the fire looking grim at the turn of the events. They offered them a light greeting but not much else. 

Looking around the room, Severus didn't see any signs that Merry had returned from his night stroll. Merry was not a complete an idiot and he knew that he would not stray far from Severus's shields, but worry still filled him.

However, before anyone can comment on Merry's absence, there was a knock on the door.  Severus swiftly made his way back to the door, already knowing who it might be.

When he opened the door, Strider nodded his head slightly before Severus bit back a sigh and allowed the man in. The other hobbits watched the man enter with curious eyes before Pippin greeted him politely, but curiously. 

"Hello," he said. "Who are you and what do you want?" 

Severus rolled his eyes at Pippin’s rather less than fine manners and closed the door. 

"I am called Strider," the man answered," and though they may have forgotten, your friends have promised to have a talk with me."

"It was not forgotten," spoke Severus as he returned to his place beside Frodo. His arms were crossed as he gazed at the man in front of him. Severus knew that he would not hurt them, especially if he was a friend of Gandalf's. But years of being a spy still made him cautious. Even friends could turn against you if you aren't careful. People can often be led astray when you least expect it. And while he may be a friend to Gandalf, he was no friend of theirs. If danger was seeking them this desperately, what's to say that there isn't a reward for their capture? Greed is a very powerful thing. Yet, Severus humored the man nonetheless.  

"You said that you had some information to our 'advantage.' So what is it that you have to say?"

"Many things," answered Strider, too cryptic for Severus’s liking." But, I have a price."

"And what is it that you want," questioned Severus sharply, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. Severus couldn't be on the nose so suddenly? Surely the man had more strategy than that?  The man had demanded a meeting and he dares ask for a reward? He wasn’t pleased and his eyes only seem to darken at the man’s words. But if the information that he had was indeed valuable, then they would need to hear his words, especially since he seemed to have spoken to Gandalf last. Yet, that didn’t mean that they would abide by his rules. Severus was sure he could make the man talk if it came down to it. 

While mulling over his thoughts, the other hobbits remained silent, shuffling fearfully at the stranger in front of them. They shared a few looks with each other and decided that Severus was probably the best representative for them. It was not unusual for men to take advantage of Hobbits since they were a lot smaller and were often overlooked by other folks. Had they been alone, this talk would be a lot more dangerous and fearful.  However, while Severus may be a bit shorter than the man, he was still quite tall and fearless. It eased their tension, especially when Sam and Pippin took notice that Severus held his wand firmly in his hand. 

 

The man seemed to notice the change in the air at his words. It was never good to play games with Severus. Offering a tight smile, the man quickly tried to fix whatever damage he had unintentionally done. 

"I will give you valuable information and some good advice, but this reward is nothing more than you can afford, I assure you. I want one thing: for you take me along with you until I wish to leave you."

Severus stared at the man in confusion. But the displeasure he had for the man only seems to rise at the man making more demands than he should. What had Gandalf told him that he didn’t tell Frodo or himself? However, before he could question the man- threaten more likey- Frodo spoke, stopping him. 

    "Even if we wanted another companion, we will not agree to anything until we know more about you and your business."

The man smirked and Severus scowled at him."You finally seem to be coming back to your senses. You have been careless so far, but I will tell you everything and you may decide to keep me or not " 

Severus frowned at the jab towards them but remained silent. Even knowing that this man was here to help them did not make it any easier to talk with him. Strider was making it difficult for him to like him. These word games he played were annoying. Had he come a just a tad bit a later, Severus would have been able to talk to Frodo of his findings about the man, but time seemed to be against him. 

"I know many things, dark thing," said Strider grimly. "But as for your business-" He walked towards the door and opened it quickly and looked out. He then shut the door and sat down again. As he was about to continue, Severus took out his wand and muttered a silencing charm around them. Whatever information the man had was best left to their ears only. The man briefly looked surprised at Severus but did not say anything about what he had done. He just continued where he left off. 

"I just so happened to be at the hedge this evening on the Road west of Bree when four hobbits and man came out of the Downloads. And there was one thing that interested me. 'Please remember,' said one of them,' that the name Baggins must not be mentioned. I am Mr. Underhill if any name must be given.’ Of course, your business is your own, but there must be an honest answer as to why Mr. Baggins has left his name behind and I must advise that he and his friends must be more careful. 

"I don't see how Mr. Underhill's name has any interest to anyone, least of all to you," began Severus tightly. "I am sure that Mr. Stider has an honest answer as to why he was spying and eavesdropping, and so I must advise for him to explain it." 

While Severus’s wand was not pointed at anyone, the warning was still up in the air. Yet, that didn't seem to deter Strider in the least. 

"It is simple. I was looking for a Hobbit called Frodo Baggins. I wanted to find him quickly. I had learned that he was carrying out of the Shire, well, a secret that concerned me and my friends."

Almost immediately, the Hobbits stood up in fright as Severus placed his wand at the man's throat. Strider swallowed thickly at the action but quickly rose his hands in a surrendering manner upon realizing he had gone too far with his words and games this time. 

"Do not mistake me!" he said. "I shall take more care of the secret than you do. And care is needed. Black horsemen have passed through Bree. On Monday one came down the Greenway, they say; and another appeared later, coming up the Greenway from the south."

There was a beat of silence before Frodo walked forward and gently pushed at Severus's arm. Severus sent him a look and bit his tongue as he placed his wand down. 

“Have they always been so close? I knew that these horsemen were after me, but now, at any rate, they seemed to have missed me and have gone away."

"Do not believe so," said Strider. "They will return and they will come back with more. There are others. I know their number and these riders. There are folks here in Bree who are not to be trusted.” 

As if he was drawing himself to be a trusting individual, thought Severus.

“ Your incident earlier will make things much more difficult and dangerous they already were,” continued Strider. “These riders will return and there are men that will gladly inform them of your whereabouts for any price. It matters not your name since the damage of your action is telling enough. However, I know these lands between the Shire and the Misty Mountains. I have traveled them for years. I may provide you with some use. You can leave in the morrow or now, but know that you won't go far without me." 

"We can protect ourselves just fine on our own," replied Severus hotly.

"I am sure you can. But you cannot protect all of them at all times. You do not know these lands. These riders are relentless. They will continue until they find you. I am sure your journey here was not an easy feat. Surely, you can understand the disadvantages you have. I am offering you a better escape. Something that you cannot offer them."

Severus glared at the man, but he did not deny him. Severus knows of his strengths and his limitations. The man is correct. He knows nothing of these riders and as of now, he doesn't know how well he will fare against one of them, let alone if there is more than the three that they have seen. Even now, given the incident earlier that night, it will not be easy to escape without someone noticing something. Even if he were to place a notice-me-not spell on them, their location has already been founded out. It would not take the riders long to follow them.

Understandably, at any other time,  Severus would never trust the man and would rather trust himself and his magic to protect the hobbits, the only thing that keeps stopping him from hexing the man was the memories he saw from before. As cryptic as the man is with his words, Severus knew that he meant no ill. But still, it seemed rather sudden. Yet, it was not up to him to decide. And while he waited patiently for Frodo to speak up, Sam was the one to break the silence. 

"With your leave, Mr. Frodo, I'd say no! This Strider here, he warns and he says take care; and I say yes to that, and let's begin with him. He comes out of the Wild, and I never heard any good of such folk. He knows something, that's plain and more than I like; but it's no reason why we should let him go leading us out into some dark place far from help, as he puts it."

Severus mentally applauded Sam for his bravery and sense. Pippin, on the other hand, was fidgeting and looked uncomfortable. Strider did not reply to Sam but turned his keen eyes on Frodo. Frodo caught his glance and looked away and kept his eyes on Severus. He seemed to ask him something, but Severus didn’t get a chance to pick up on it before Frodo finally spoke. 

"No," Frodo said slowly. "I don't agree. But Sam is right in this: I don't see why you should warn us to take care, and yet ask us to take you on trust. Why the disguise? Who are you? What do you really know about - about my business; and how do you know it?"

However, before either Severus or Strider could provide an answer, there was a knock at the door. Immediately, Strider hid in the shadows beside the fireplace just as Mr. Butterbur came in with candles, followed by Nob with cans of hot water. 

"I've come to bid you good night," said the landlord, putting the candles on the table. "Nob! Take the water to the rooms!" He came in and shut the door.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," he began, hesitating and looking troubled. "If I've done any harm, I'm sorry indeed. But one thing drives out another, as you'll admit; and I'm a busy man. But first one thing and then another this week have jogged my memory, as the saying goes; and not too late I hope. You see, I was asked to look out for hobbits of the Shire, and for one by the name of Baggins in particular."

"And what has that got to do with me?" asked Frodo.

"Ah! you know best," said the landlord, knowingly. "I won't give you away; but I was told that this Baggins would be going by the name of Underhill, and I was given a description that fits you well enough, if I may say so."

"Description?" asked Severus. Surely not everyone knew of Frodo’s identity. They must not have been that careless if a man like Mr.Butterbur picked up on it. 

"Yes. He said 'a stout little fellow with red cheeks,'" said Butterbur. Pippin chuckled in the back, but no one paid him any mind. "'but that won't help you much; it goes for most hobbits, but one is taller than some and fairer than most, and he has a cleft in his chin: perky chap with a bright eye.' Beg your pardon, but he said it, not me."

"Who said it?" questioned Severus.

"Ah! Well, it was Gandalf, if you know whom I mean. A wizard they say he is, but he's a good friend of mine, but he may have more than a few words to share with me for what I've done."

"And what have you done?"

Nervously, Mr. Butterburg continued his story. "Well, three months back, Gandalf walked right into my room without a knock and said 'Barley, I'm off in the morning. Will you do something for me?'- and of course I agreed- 'I am in a hurry,' said Gandalf,' and I've no time myself, but I want a message took to the Shire.' And I told him that I would send as soon as I could." 

By now, Mr. Buttebur produced a letter from his pocket and presented it to Frodo. 

Mr. FRODO BAGGINS, BAG END, HOBBITON in the SHIRE.

"I suppose this is why you wished to discuss something with us," said Severus."You best be telling us why you never sent it."

Poor Mr. Butterbur looked troubled. "You're right, master," he said, "and I beg your pardon. And I'm afraid of what Gandalf will say if harm comes of it. But I didn't keep it back on purpose! I put it away until I could send it! But then I couldn't find anybody willing to go to the Shire next day, nor the day after, and none of my own folk were to spare; and then one thing after another drove it out of my mind. I'm a busy man. I'll do what I can to set matters right, and if there's any help I can give, you've only to name it.

" Leaving the letter aside, I promised Gandalf no less. 'Barley', he says to me, 'this friend of mine from the Shire, he may be coming out this way before long, him and two others. He'll be calling himself Underhill. Mind that! But you need to ask no questions. And if I'm not with him, he may be in trouble, and he may need help. Do whatever you can for him, and I'll be grateful,' he says. And here you are, and trouble is not far off, seemingly."

“What do you mean?” asked Frodo.

“These black men,” said the landlord lowering his voice. “They're looking for Baggins, and if they mean well, then I'm a hobbit! It was on Monday, and all the dogs were yammering and the geese screaming. Uncanny, I called it. Nob, he came and told me that two black men were at the door asking for a hobbit called Baggins. Nob's hair was all stood on end. I bid the black fellows be off, and slammed the door on them; but they've been asking the same question all the way to Archet, I hear. And that Ranger, Strider, he's been asking questions, too. Tried to get in here to see you, before you'd had bite or sup, he did.”

“He did!” said Strider suddenly, coming forward into the light. “And much trouble would have been saved, if you had let him in, Barliman.”

The landlord and Pippin jumped with surprise at the sudden action. “You!” he cried. “You're always popping up. What do you want now?”

“He's here with my leave,” said Frodo. “He came to offer me his help.”

“Well, you know your own business, maybe,” said Mr. Butterbur, looking suspiciously at Strider. “But if I was in your plight, I wouldn't take up with a Ranger.”

“Then who would you take up with?” asked Strider. “A fat innkeeper who only remembers his own name because people shout it at him all day? They cannot stay in The Pony forever, and they cannot go home. They have a long road before them. Will you go with them and keep the black men off?”

“Me? Leave Bree! I wouldn't do that for any money,” said Mr. Butterbur, looking really scared and off-put. “But why can't you stay here quiet for a bit, Mr. Underhill? What are all these queer goings-on? What are these black men after, and where do they come from, I'd like to know?”

“I'm sorry I can't explain it all,” answered Frodo. “I am tired and very worried, and it's a long tale. But if you mean to help me, I ought to warn you that you will be in danger as long as I am in your house. These Black Riders: I am not sure, but I think, I fear they come from-”

“They come from Mordor,” interrupted Strider in a low voice. “From Mordor, Barliman, if that means anything to you.”

“Save us!” cried Mr. Butterbur turning pale; the name evidently was known to him. “That is the worst news that has come to Bree in my time.” 

“It is,” agreed Frodo. “Are you still willing to help me?” 

“I am,” said Mr. Butterbur. “More than ever. Though I don't know what the likes of me can do against, against-” he faltered.

“Against the Shadow in the East,” said Strider quietly. “Not much, Barliman, but every little helps. You can let Mr. Underhill stay here tonight, as Mr. Underhill, and you can forget the name of Baggins, till he is far away.”

“I'll do that,” said Butterbur. “But they'll find out he's here without help from me, I'm afraid. It's a pity Mr. Baggins drew attention to himself this evening, to say no more. The story of that Mr. Bilbo's going off has been heard before tonight in Bree. Even our Nob has been doing some guessing in his slow pate: and there are others in Bree quicker in the uptake than he is.”

“Well, we can only hope the Riders won't come back yet,” said Frodo.

“I hope not, indeed,” said Butterbur. “But spooks or no spooks, they won't get in The Pony so easy. Don't you worry till the morning. Nob'll say no word. No black man shall pass my doors, while I can stand on my legs. Me and my folk'll keep watch tonight, but you had best get some sleep if you can.”

“In any case, we must be called at dawn,” said Severus. 'We must get off as early as possible. Breakfast at six-thirty, if you please.”

“Right! I'll see to the orders,” said the landlord. “Good night, Mr. Baggins - Underhill, I should say! Good night - now, bless me! Where's your Mr. Brandybuck?”

“I don't know,” said Frodo with sudden anxiety. They had forgotten all about Merry, and it was getting late. “I am afraid he is out. He said something about going for a breath of air.”

“Well, you do want looking after and no mistake: your party might be on a holiday!” said Butterbur. “I must go and bar the doors quick, but I'll see your friend is let in when he comes. I'd better send Nob to look for him. Good night to you all!”

At last Mr. Butterbur went out, with another doubtful look at Strider and a shake of his head. His footsteps retreated down the passage. 

“Well?” said Strider. “When are you going to open that letter?”

Frodo looked carefully at the seal before he broke it. It seemed certainly to be Gandalf's. Inside, written in the wizard's strong but graceful script, was the following message:

 

THE PRANCING PONY, BREE. Midyear's Day, Shire Year, 1418.

Dear Frodo,

Bad news has reached me here. I must go off at once. You had better leave Bag End soon, and get out of the Shire before the end of July at the latest. I will return as soon as I can; and I will follow you, if I find that you are gone. Leave a message for me here, if you pass through Bree. You can trust the landlord (Butterbur). You may meet a friend of mine on the Road: a Man, lean, dark, tall, by some called Strider. He knows our business and will help you. Make for Rivendell. There I hope we may meet again. If I do not come, Elrond will advise you.

Yours in haste, GANDALF. 

  1. Do NOT use It again, not for any reason whatever! Do not travel by night! 



PPS. Make sure that it is the real Strider. There are many strange men on the roads. His true name is Aragorn. 

(Severus snorted silently at the additional notes as he read over Frodo’s shoulders.) 

 

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.

PPPS. I hope Butterbur sends this promptly. A worthy man, but his memory is like a lumber-roam: thing wanted always buried. If he forgets, I shall roast him.

Fare Well!

Frodo read the letter to himself, and then passed it to Pippin and Sam. 

“Really old Butterbur has made a mess of things!” he said. “He deserves roasting. If I had got this at once, we might all have been safe in Rivendell by now. But what can have happened to Gandalf? He writes as if he was going into great danger.”

“He has been doing that for many years,” said Strider.

Frodo turned and looked at him thoughtfully, wondering about Gandalf's second postscript. “Why didn't you tell me that you were Gandalf's friend at once?” he asked the question that’s been plaguing Severus’s mind. “It would have saved time.”

“Would it? Would any of you have believed me till now?” said Strider. “I knew nothing of this letter. For all I knew, I had to persuade you to trust me without proof if I was to help you. In any case, I did not intend to tell you all about myself at once. I had to study you first, and make sure it was you. The Enemy has set traps for me before now. As soon as I had made up my mind, I was ready to tell you whatever you asked. But I must admit,” he added with a queer laugh, “that I hoped you would take to me for my own sake. A hunted man sometimes wearies of distrust and longs for friendship. But there, I believe my looks are against me.”

“They are - at first sight at any rate,” laughed Pippin with sudden relief after reading Gandalf's letter. “But handsome is as handsome does, as we say in the Shire; and I daresay we shall all look much the same after lying for days in hedges and ditches.”

“It would take more than a few days, or weeks, or years, of wandering in the Wild to make you look like Strider,” he answered. “And you would die first unless you are made of sterner stuff than you look to be.”

Pippin subsided, but Sam was not daunted, and he still eyed Strider dubiously. “How do we know you are the Strider that Gandalf speaks about?” he demanded. “You never mentioned Gandalf, till this letter came out. You might be a play-acting spy, for all I can see, trying to get us to go with you. You might have done in the real Strider and took his clothes. What have you to say to that?”

“That you are a stout fellow,” answered Strider; “but I am afraid my only answer to you, Sam Gamgee, is this. If I had killed the real Strider, I could kill you. And I should have killed you already without so much talk. If I was after the Ring, I could have it - NOW!”

He stood up and seemed suddenly to grow taller. In his eyes gleamed a light, keen and commanding. Throwing back his cloak, he laid his hand on the hilt of a sword that had hung concealed by his side. They did not dare to move. Sam sat wide-mouthed staring at him dumbly.

“'But I am the real Strider, fortunately,” he said, looking down at them with his face softened by a sudden smile. “I am Aragorn son of Arathorn; and if by life or death I can save you, I will.”

Yet despite his words, Sam looked for shaken up than he did relieved. And while his little show was amusing, Severus thought it was a little in ill taste. 

“Do not fret, Sam” spoke Severus to the little Hobbit. “He is whom he claims to be. I have known about all of this since the moment I’ve seen him. He’s been at this inn with Gandalf before he disappeared. He told him to look out for us and show us the way should Gandalf be unable to do so. However, he could have gone in a better direction at telling us so as to not make him appear so suspicious.”

Strider looked surprised at the sudden reveal and while Sam seemed to deflate at Severus’s words, Frodo, on the other hand, looked surprised as Strider. 

“How do you know that?” asked Frodo. 

Deciding whether or not to reveal another side to his powers, Severus simply played with his wand, twirling it lightly between his fingers. 

Not completely understanding, Frodo nodded before speaking towards Aragorn again. 

“I believed that you were a friend before the letter came,” he said, “or at least I wished to. You have frightened me several times tonight, but never in the way that servants of the Enemy would, or so I imagine. I think one of his spies would - well, seem fairer and feel fouler, if you understand.”

“I see,” laughed Strider. “I look foul and feel fair. Is that it? All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost.”

“Did the verses apply to you then?” asked Frodo. “I could not make out what they were about. But how did you know that they were in Gandalf's letter if you have never seen it?”

“'I did not know,” he answered. “But I am Aragorn, and those verses go with that name.” He drew out his sword, and they saw that the blade was indeed broken a foot below the hilt.

“Not much use is it, Sam?” said Strider. “But the time is near when it shall be forged anew.”

Sam said nothing.

“Well,” said Strider, “with Sam's permission we will call that settled. Strider shall be your guide. We shall have a rough road tomorrow. Even if we are allowed to leave Bree unhindered, we can hardly hope now to leave it unnoticed. But I shall try to get lost as soon as possible. I know one or two ways out of Bree-land other than the main road. If once we shake off the pursuit, I shall make for Weathertop.”

“Weathertop?” said Sam. “What's that?”

“It is a hill, just to the north of the Road, about halfway from here to Rivendell. It commands a wide view all around, and there we shall have a chance to look about us. Gandalf will make for that point if he follows us. After Weathertop our journey will become more difficult, and we shall have to choose between various dangers.”

“When did you last see Gandalf?” asked Frodo. “Do you know where he is, or what he is doing?”

Strider looked grave. “I do not know,” he said. “I came west with him in the spring. I have often kept watch on the borders of the Shire in the last few years when he was busy elsewhere. He seldom left it unguarded. We last met on the first of May at this here inn- as your friend had mentioned. He told me that his business with you had gone well and that you would be starting for Rivendell in the last week of September. As I knew he was at your side, I went away on a journey of my own. And that has proved ill; for plainly some news reached him, and I was not at hand to help.

“I am troubled, for the first time since I have known him. We should have had messages, even if he could not come himself. When I returned, many days ago, I heard the ill news. The tidings had gone far and wide that Gandalf was missing and the horsemen had been seen. It was the Elven-folk of Gildor that told me this, and later they told me that you had left your home, but there was no news of your leaving Buckland. I have been watching the East Road anxiously.”

“Do you think the Black Riders have anything to do with it - with Gandalf's absence, I mean?” asked Frodo.

“I do not know of anything else that could have hindered him, except the Enemy himself,” said Strider. “But do not give up hope! Gandalf is greater than you Shire-folk know - as a rule, you can only see his jokes and toys. But this business of ours will be his greatest task.”

Pippin yawned. “I am sorry,” he said, “but I am dead tired. In spite of all the danger and worry I must go to bed, or sleep where I sit. Where is that silly fellow, Merry? It would be the last straw if we had to go out in the dark to look for him.”

At that moment they heard a door slam; then feet came running along the passage. Merry came in with a rush followed by Nob. He shut the door hastily and leaned against it. He was out of breath. They stared at him in alarm for a moment before he gasped: “I have seen them, Frodo! I have seen them! Black Riders!”

Immediately, everyone tensed and Severus searched frantically over Mery’s body for any sign of harm. When he found none, he sent a worry glance to Aragorn who’s focus was on Merry. 

“Black Riders!” cried Frodo. “Where?”

“Here. In the village. I had come back after my stroll and was standing just outside the light of the lamp looking at the stars. Suddenly I shivered and felt that something horrible was creeping near: there was a son of deeper shade among the shadows across the road, just beyond the edge of the lamplight. It slid away at once into the dark without a sound. There was no horse.”

“Which way did it go?” asked Strider, suddenly and sharply. Merry started, noticing the stranger for the first time. 

“Go on!” said Frodo. “This is a friend of Gandalf's. I will explain later.”

“It seemed to make off up the Road, eastward,” continued Merry. “I tried to follow. Of course, it vanished almost at once; I dare not pass the shields that Severus placed over the inn.”

“Did it go near the inn at all?”

“No,” said Merry shaking his head. “I don’t think it was able to pass it all.”

Severus nodded his head, thoughts flying in his head. If they weren’t able to pass it then his shields must be able to work against them. He did not know how long they will last and he was willing to test it out at the moment.  

Strider looked at both Severus and Merry with wonder. “You have a stout heart,” he said; “but it was foolish.”

“I don't know,” said Merry. “Neither brave nor silly, I think. I could hardly help myself. I seemed to be drawn somehow. Anyway, I went as far as I could, and suddenly I heard voices by the hedge. One was muttering, and the other was whispering or hissing. I couldn't hear a word that was said. I did not creep any closer, because I began to tremble all over. Then I felt terrified, and I turned back and was just going to bolt inside when something came behind me and I... I fell over.”

“I found him, sir,” put in Nob. “Mr. Butterbur sent me out with a lantern. I went down and I thought I could see something on the Road. I couldn't swear to it, but it looked to me as if two men was stooping over something, lilting it. I gave a shout, but where I got up to the spot there were no signs of them, and only Mr. Brandybuck lying by the roadside. He seemed to be asleep. ‘I thought I had fallen into deep water,’ he says to me when I shook him. Very queer he was, and as soon as I had roused him, he got up and ran back here like a hare.”

“I am afraid that's true,” said Merry, “though I don't know what I said. I had an ugly dream, which I can't remember. I went to pieces. I don't know what came over me”'

“I do,” said Strider. “The Black Breath. The Riders must have left their horses outside, and passed back through the South-gate in secret. They will know all the news now. Something may happen in the night before we leave Bree.”

“What will happen?” said Merry, fearfully. “Will they attack the inn?”

“No, I think not,” said Strider. “They are not all here yet and if your friend is right, then they can’t seem to pass through your ‘shields,” he said looking at Severus. “ And in any case, that is not their way. In dark and loneliness, they are strongest; they will not openly attack a house where there are lights and many people -not until they are desperate, not while all the long leagues of Eriador still lie before us. But their power is in terror, and already some in Bree are in their clutch. They will drive these wretches to some evil work: some of the strangers, and, maybe, the gatekeeper too. They had words with Harry at West-gate on Monday. I was watching them. He was white and shaking when they left him.”

“We seem to have enemies all around,” said Frodo. “What are we to do?”

“Stay here, and do not go to your rooms! They are sure to have found out which those are. The hobbit-rooms have windows looking north and close to the ground. We will all remain together and bar this window and the door. But first Nob and I will fetch your luggage.'

 

While Strider was gone, Frodo gave Merry a rapid account of all that had happened since supper. Merry was still reading and pondering Gandalf's letter when Strider and Nob returned.

“Well Masters,” said Nob, “I've ruffled up the clothes and put in a bolster down the middle of each bed. And I made a nice imitation of your head with a brown woolen mat, Mr. Bag - Underhill, sir,” he added with a grin.

Pippin laughed. “Very life-like!” he said. “But what will happen when they have penetrated the disguise?”

“We shall see,” said Strider. “Let us hope to hold the fort till morning.”

“Good night to you,” said Nob, and went off to take his part in the watch on the doors.

Their bags and gear they piled on the parlor floor. They pushed a low chair against the door and shut the window. Severus added more shields to the doors for protection. Peering out, Frodo saw that the night was still clear. The Sickle was swinging bright above the shoulders of Bree-hill. He then closed and barred the heavy inside shutters and drew the curtains together. Strider built up the fire and blew out all the candles.

The hobbits lay down on their blankets with their feet towards the hearth, but Strider settled himself in the chair against the door. They talked for a little, for Merry still had several questions to ask.

“Jumped over the Moon!” chuckled Merry as he rolled himself in his blanket. “Very ridiculous of you, Frodo! But I wish I had been there to see. The worthies of Bree will be discussing it a hundred years hence.”

 

“I hope so,” said Strider. Then they all fell silent, and one by one the hobbits dropped off to sleep.

Severus sat next to them, watching the fire’s light gleam over them. Now that the enemy was near, he could not find it in himself to rest. Focusing on Frodo, Severus didn’t notice the looks that Aragorn sent his way. 

Before long, Aragorn’s finally spoke.

“I had not revealed anything to you for you to know that I was with Gandalf before.”

There was no question said, but it hung in the air anyways. Severus spared him a side eye glance before focusing on the Hobbits one more time. Debating what to tell him, Severus remained silent for a small moment

“I have unique abilities that are far beyond your imagination. One of them allows me to enter your mind to not only breeze through your outer thoughts but to glimpse at your deepest secrets and cherished memories. I can even plant memories and thoughts that were never there; I can even destroy your state of mind easily.”

Somewhat startled and frighten, Aragorn continued. “And your shields? How do they fare?”

“Magical, far stronger than anything a mere muggle- ahem, man can wield or fight. But I do not know the full extent of my powers and their limitations just yet. I have rarely needed to use them for anything other than house chores and the like. It is very different than any magic that you are used to here in Middle Earth. I highly doubt that there is anyone else in this world with magic quite like mine. Nonetheless, I am not all that sure of what kind of creatures these Black Riders are. As of now, it is safe to assume that we will be fine this night”

Nodding, Aragorn remained silent after he deemed the information sufficient. Severus continued to watch Frodo, brushing against his brown, curly locks. 

Severus kept to himself the rest of the night, thinking deeply about the journey ahead. 

Absentmindedly, Severus rubbed at his chest picking at his necklace hidden in his shirt. He had a terrible feeling that something was going to happen soon. 

Looking at Frodo, he could only wonder what it may be.

Luckily, through the night, it remained to be silent and there was no ruckus. Frodo did wake up once, almost startled, but after a quick glance at himself and Strider, who was still sitting alert in his chair, he was pulled back to sleep. There were deep lines on his face and he looked like he was almost in pain. 

Another nightmare thought Severus. But before Severus could wake him up, a tingling feeling was felt in the back of his mind.

Aragorn looked his way before a loud noise ranged from outside. The sounds of galloping hoofs and loud horn started them both, causing Frodo to wake up just as Aragorn peered outside the window, drawing the curtains. There was cold air coming through the window. 

Quickly, Severus gently sturred the other Hobbits to wake up. Severus order them to remain hidden and alert before him and Strider went to investigate the noise. 

Inside their old rooms, the windows had been forced open and were swinging, the curtains flapping in the wind; the beds were tossed about and the bolsters slashed and flung upon the floor; the brown mats were torn to pieces. 

 

Somewhat started, Severus watched as Aragorn investigated the room before he went to fetch the landlord. The man looked sleepy and frightened 

"Never has such a thing happened in my time," he cried, raising his hands in horror. "Guest are unable to sleep in their beds, and good bolsters ruined and all! What are we coming to?”

Severus rolled his eyes at the man's woes. 

"Dark times," obviously replied Severus. It reminded him briefly of how the shop owners at Diagon Alley reacted at the beginning of the first war. They didn't really think of the real dangers that lied ahead or the troubles that they then faced. It was only when more people began to die did they start to rethink their values. 

"But worry not," continued Aragorn. "You will be left in peace once we are gone. We will leave now."

Nodding in understanding, Severus returned to the Hobbits and magic their belongings away. 

Aragorn followed him soon after and informed them that the ponies were gone. Severus frowned in response. It was dangerous to run from enemies by foot.

As if reading his mind, Aragorn spoke again. 

"Ponies and horses would not help us escape the horsemen.  We should not go much slower on foot, not on the roads that I mean to take. I was going to walk in any case. It is the food and stores that trouble me. We cannot count on getting anything to eat between here and Rivendell, except what we take with us; and we ought to take plenty to spare; for we may be delayed, or forced to go round-about, far out of the direct way. How much are you prepared to carry on your backs?"

"As much as we could possibly need," answered Severus. "I have charmed their bags to be weightless and my own personal storage is bottomless. We can store a whole bed in it if needed. There is no limit to what we can put in it. We will be fine."

Nodding, Aragorn stared amazed at the small bag that Severus carried. He was almost doubtful, but he trusted Severus nonetheless. The other Hobbits didn’t seem to be surprised by this, so he assumed that Severus was mostly in charge of their supplies since their packs seem to hold their sleeping beds rather than food and other things. 

Thankfully, it was still dark out and they were able to sneak away with their bags filled with supplies.

They had thanked and said their farewells to Nob and Mr. Butterbur. 

"I hope we shall meet again someday when things are merry once more," said Frodo. "I should like nothing better than to stay in your house in peace for a while."

As they made their way, the sun was rising and they rushed into the hidden trails only known by Aragorn. Soon they made their way to a narrow track that led towards the North. 

"This way," directed Aragorn expertly. 

"Not a 'short cut', I hope," said Pippin. "Our last short cut through woods nearly ended in disaster."

"Ah, but you had not got me with you then," laughed Strider. "My cuts, short or long, don't go wrong." He took a look up and down the Road. No one was in sight, and he led the way quickly down towards the wooded valley.

His plan, as far as they could understand it without knowing the country, was to go towards Archet at first but to bear right and pass it on the east and then to steer as straight as he could over the wild lands to Weathertop Hill. In that way they would, if all went well, cut off a great loop of the Road, which further on bent southwards to avoid the Midgewater Marshes. But, of course, they would have to pass through the marshes themselves, and Strider's description of them was not encouraging.

However, in the meanwhile, walking was not unpleasant. Indeed, if it had not been for the disturbing events of the night before, they would have enjoyed this pan of the journey better than any up to that time. The sun was shining, clear but not too hot. The woods in the valley were still leafy and full of color and seemed peaceful and wholesome. Strider guided them confidently among the many crossing paths, although left to themselves they would soon have been at a loss. He was taking a wandering course with many turns and doublings, to put off any pursuit.

Whether because of Strider's skill or for some other reason, they saw no sign and heard no sound of any other living thing all that day: neither two-footed, except birds; nor four-footed, except one fox and a few squirrels. The next day they began to steer a steady course eastwards, and still, all was quiet and peaceful. On the third day out from Bree, they came out of the Chetwood. The land had been falling steadily, ever since they turned aside from the Road, and they now entered a wide flat expanse of country, much more difficult to manage. They were far beyond the borders of the Bree-land, out in the pathless wilderness, and drawing near to the Midge-water Marshes.

The ground now became damp, and in places boggy and here and there they came upon pools and wide stretches of reeds and rushes filled with the warbling of little-hidden birds. They had to pick their way carefully to keep both dry-footed and on their proper course. At first, they made fan-progress, but as they went on, their passage became slower and more dangerous. The marshes were bewildering and treacherous, and there was no permanent trail even for Rangers to find through their shifting quagmires. The flies began to torment them, and the air was full of clouds of tiny midges that crept up their sleeves and breeches and into their hair. It was only when it became particularly nasty did Severus offered all of them liquid lavender to keep the bugs away. It was very strong and quite pleasant and made the journey more tolerable, but still miserable in this unpleasant country. 

The next day, the fourth was a little better, and the night almost as comfortless. As Frodo lay, tired but unable to close his eyes, it seemed to him that far away there came a light in the eastern sky: it flashed and faded many times. It was not the dawn, for that was still some hours off.

"What is the light?" he said to Strider, who had risen, and was standing, gazing ahead into the night.

"I do not know," Strider answered. "It is too distant to make out. It is like lightning that leaps up from the hill-tops."

Frodo lay down again, but for a long while Severus could still see the white flashes, and against them, the tall dark figure of Strider, standing silent and watchful.

Frodo seemed to be troubled about something and he did not tell Severus what it was, though he suspected that it had to deal with a long lost wizard. To ease his worries, Severus began a conversation with him about nothing in particular to distract him. The other hobbits joined in too, remembering peaceful and comforting times. At last, Frodo and the rest had passed into sleep. 

Soon, it had reached the fifth day and they had luckily left the pools and marshes behind. The land before them began to steadily rise again. Away in the distance eastward, they could now see a line of hills. The highest of them was at the right of the line and a little separated from the others. it had a conical top, slightly flattened at the summit. 

Severus looked at the structure and found it more depressing than he thought. 

“That is Weathertop,” said Strider. “The Old Road, which we have left far away on our right, runs to the south of it and passes not far from its foot. We might reach it by noon tomorrow if we go straight towards it. I suppose we had better do so.”

“What do you mean?” asked Frodo.

“I mean: when we do get there, it is not certain what we shall find. It is close to the Road.”

“But surely we were hoping to find Gandalf there?”

“Yes; but the hope is faint. If he comes this way at all, he may not pass through Bree, and so he may not know what we are doing. And anyway, unless by luck we arrive almost together, we shall miss one another; it will not be safe for him or for us to wait there long. If the Riders fail to find us in the wilderness, they are likely to make for Weathertop themselves. It commands a wide view all around. Indeed, there are many birds and beasts in this country that could see us, as we stand here, from that hill-top. Not all the birds are to be trusted, and there are other spies more evil than they are.”

“If it is so dangerous, then why would we venture there at all? Surely, the chances of crossing paths with Gandalf are slim, should we not take our chances away from the dangers that seek us?” questioned Severus. To him, it seemed to risky to vernture there. 

The hobbits looked anxiously at the distant hills. Sam looked up into the pale sky, fearing to see hawks or eagles hovering over them with bright unfriendly eyes.

“Even so, we have no other leads,” replied Strider, but Severus could trace some uncertainty at his words. Before he could argue, Frodo interrupted him. 

“What do you advise us to do?” asked Frodo.

“I think”' answered Strider slowly as if he was not quite sure, “I think the best thing is to go as straight eastward from here as we can, to make for the line of hills, not for Weathertop. There we can strike a path I know that runs at their feet; it will bring us to Weathertop from the north and less openly. Then we shall see what we shall see.”

All that day they plodded along until the cold and early evening came down. The whole time that they were traveling, Severus argued with Frodo in the back. The Hobbits sent them worried glance since Frodo and Severus rarely disagreed with anything. It was troubling. Even Aragorn, who led the group, would glance back at them occasionally. 

Yet, no matter how much Severus reasoned that this was a bad idea (not to mention he couldn’t seem to fight off the dread that filled him), Frodo refused to back down and firmly set to stick to the plan made by Strider. 

Of course, Aragorn knew best since he knows these lands and these riders better than the whole lot of them, but Severus knew the reason why they were both set on the Weathertop. They both believed that Gandalf was waiting for them, but Severus knew that the chances were more than unlikely. It would be a chance at best and rarely would his gut be wrong. It had saved him too many times to be easily dismissed. But nothing he did or said seemed to stop them and the land became drier and more barren, but mists and vapors lay behind them on the marshes as they continued on. A few melancholy birds were piping and wailing until the round red sun sank slowly into the western shadows; then an empty silence fell and while Severus never cared for divination, he took it as a bad omen. 

At the day's end, they came to a stream that wandered down from the hills to lose itself in the stagnant marshland, and they went up along its banks while the light lasted. It was already night when at last they halted and made their camp under some stunted alder-trees by the shores of the stream. Ahead there loomed now against the dusky sky the bleak and treeless backs of the hills. That night they set a watch, and Strider, it seemed, did not sleep at all. The moon was waxing, and in the early night-hours, a cold grey light lay on the land.

Next morning they set out again soon after sunrise. There was a frost in the air, and the sky was a pale clear blue. The hobbits felt refreshed as if they had had a night of unbroken sleep. Already they were getting used to much walking on short commons - shorter at any rate than what in the Shire they would have thought barely enough to keep them on their legs. Pippin declared that Frodo was looking twice the hobbit that he had been.

“Very odd,” said Frodo, tightening his belt, “considering that there is actually a good deal less of me. I hope the thinning process will not go on indefinitely, or I shall become a wraith.”

“Do not speak of such things”' said Strider quickly from the front, and with surprising earnestness.

The hills drew nearer. They made an undulating ridge, often rising almost to a thousand feet, and here and there falling again to low clefts or passes leading into the eastern land beyond. Along the crest of the ridge the hobbits could see what looked to be the remains of green-grown walls and dikes, and in the clefts, there still stood the ruins of old works of stone. By night they had reached the feet of the westward slopes, and there they camped. It was the night of the fifth of October, and they were six days out from Bree.

In the morning they found, for the first time since they had left the Chetwood, a track plain to see. They turned right and followed it southwards. It ran cunningly, taking a line that seemed chosen so as to keep as much hidden as possible from the view, both of the hill-tops above and of the flats to the west. It dived into dells and hugged steep banks, and where it passed over flatter and more open ground on either side of it there were lines of large boulders and hewn stones that screened the travelers almost like a hedge.

“I wonder who made this path, and what for”' said Merry, as they walked along one of these avenues, where the stones were unusually large and closely set. “I am not sure that I like it: it has a - well, rather a barrow-wightish look. Is there any barrow on Weathertop?”

“No. There is no barrow on Weathertop, nor on any of these hills,” answered Strider. “The Men of the West did not live here; though in their latter days they defended the hills for a while against the evil that came out of Angmar. This path was made to serve the forts along the walls. But long before, in the first days of the North Kingdom, they built a great watch-tower on Weathertop, Amon Sûl they called it. It was burned and broken, and nothing remains of it now but a tumbled ring, like a rough crown on the old hill's head. Yet once it was tall and fair. It is told that Elendil stood there watching for the coming of Gil-galad out of the West, in the days of the Last Alliance.'

The hobbits gazed at Strider with wonder at his vast knowledge of old lore, as well as in the ways of the wild. Severus rolled his eyes, still bitter from before. 

“Who was Gil-galad?” asked Merry, but Strider did not answer and seemed to be lost in thought and the question remained unanswered. Severus remembers faintly of a story or two written in one of the books left by Bilbo, but not much else. 

It was already mid-day when they drew near the southern end of the path, and saw before them, in the pale clear light of the October sun, a grey-green bank, leading up like a bridge on to the northward slope of the hill. They decided to make for the top at once, while the daylight was broad Concealment was no longer possible, and they could only hope that no enemy or spy was observing them. Nothing was to be seen moving on the hill. If Gandalf was anywhere about, there was no sign of him and Severus bit his tongue to hide his anger and bitterness.

On the western flank of Weathertop, they found a sheltered hollow, at the bottom of which there was a bowl-shaped dell with grassy sides. There they left Sam and Pippin with their packs and luggage. The other four went on, but not before Severus placed some charms around them for protection. After half an hour's plodding climb Strider reached the crown of the hill; Frodo and Merry followed, tired and breathless. Severus was tired as well, but he refused to show any signs of wear. The last slope had been steep and rocky and more difficult than the ones before.

On the top they found, as Strider had said, a wide ring of ancient stonework, now crumbling or covered with age-long grass. There was nothing impressive about it, but Severus was sure that the splendor that it once had must have been marvelous.  In the center, there were broken stones piled on top of each other. They were blackened as if with fire. About them, the turf was burned to the roots and all within the ring the grass was scorched and shriveled as if flames had swept the hill-top, but there was no sign of any living thing.

Standing upon the rim of the ruined circle, they saw all round below them a wide prospect, for the most pan of lands empty and featureless, except for patches of woodland away to the south, beyond which they caught here and there the glint of distant water. Beneath them on this southern side there ran like a ribbon the Old Road, coming out of the West and winding up and down, until it faded behind a ridge of dark land to the east. Nothing was moving on it. Following its line eastward with their eyes, they saw the Mountains: the nearer foothills were brown and somber; behind them stood taller shapes of grey, and behind those again were high white peaks glimmering among the clouds.

“Well, here we are!” said Merry. “And very cheerless and uninviting it looks! There is no water and no shelter. And no sign of Gandalf. But I don't blame him for not waiting - if he ever came here.”

“I wonder,” said Strider, looking around thoughtfully. “Even if he was a day or two behind us at Bree, he could have arrived here first. He can ride very swiftly when need presses.”

They remained silent as they scouted the area for signs of Gandalf or anything really. AS Severus moved forward, he felt drawn to the center and gently touched the rocks and boulders. For a moment there was nothing, but a sudden chill passed and Severus closed his eyes as a wave of emotions washed over him. For a second, he thought he had simply blinked, but when he opened his eyes, he found himself lost in time. 

There were people bustling about around him, dressed in armor and carrying weapons. The once-crumbling rocks had been restored and Severus stared amazed at the beauty of the fortress that was lost. 

Then the ground shook violently and screams were heard. Severus watched as people ran around him, fighting creatures he's never seen before. It moved almost like a blur, as years and years seem to pass by in seconds. It kept going until there was nothing but a wasteland that now remains. But, he was no longer alone. In front of him stood a rider who rose his sword high. 

Before Severus could do anything, he felt a burning sensation course through him as he was stabbed with the sword. He tried to scream but nothing came out. Severus laid on the floor, breathless but alive. Then, it all faded to black. When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing still, his hand still resting on top of the stones. The Hobbits and Strider stared at him worriedly, but before they could say anything, Aragorn made his way towards one of the boulders. 

Suddenly he stooped and looked at the stone on the top of the cairn; it was flatter than the others and whiter as if it had escaped the fire. He picked it up and examined it, turning it in his fingers. "This has been handled recently,” he said. “What do you think of these marks?”

On the flat under-side, Frodo saw some scratches:  “There seems to be a stroke, a dot, and three more strokes,” he said.

“The stroke on the left might be a G-rune with thin branches,” said Strider. “It might be a sign left by Gandalf, though one cannot be sure. The scratches are fine, and they certainly look fresh. But the marks might mean something quite different and have nothing to do with us. Rangers use runes, and they come here sometimes.”

“So we came here for nothing,” said Severus, but everyone ignored his words.

“What could they mean, even if Gandalf made them?” asked Merry

“I should say,” answered Strider, “that they stood for G3, and were a sign that Gandalf was here on October the third: that is three days ago now. It would also show that he was in a hurry and danger was at hand, so that he had no time or did not dare to write anything longer or plainer. If that is so, we must be wary.”

“I wish we could feel sure that he made the marks, whatever they may mean,” said Frodo “It would be a great comfort to know that he was on the way, in front of us or behind us.”

“Perhaps,” said Strider. “For myself, I believe that he was here, and was in danger. There have been scorching flames here, and now the light that we saw three nights ago in the eastern sky comes back to my mind. I guess that he was attacked on this hill-top, but with what result I cannot tell. He is here no longer, and we must now look after ourselves and make our own way to Rivendell, as best we can “

“How far is Rivendell?” asked Merry, gazing round wearily. The world looked wild and wide from Weathertop.

“I don't know if the Road has ever been measured in miles beyond the Forsaken Inn, a day's journey east of Bree,” answered Strider. “Some say it is so far, and some say otherwise. It is a strange road, and folk is glad to reach their journey's end, whether the time is long or short. But I know how long it would take me on my own feet, with fair weather and no ill fortune twelve days from here to the Ford of Bruinen, where the Road crosses the Loudwater that runs out of Rivendell. We have at least a fortnight's journey before us, for I do not think we shall be able to use the Road.”

“A fortnight!” said Frodo. “A lot may happen in that time.”

“It may,” said Strider.

They stood for a while silent on the hill-top, near its southward edge. Frodo was staring far out towards the direction that that once came, a path that eventually leads to the Shire. Severus stood next to him, watching him. Despite not finding Gandalf, it was somewhat reassuring that he was indeed here, but it did not help that he was no longer here. Especially if what Aragorn said was true, then he was fighting someone or something here. It spoke of dangers, yet none of his companions seemed to mind it which he thought was quite dumb. 

Lost in though, he felt a sudden jerk to his arm and stared at Frodo who looked scared as he pointed North. Suddenly he was aware that two black specks were moving slowly along it, going westward; and looking again he saw that three others were creeping eastward to meet them. 

"Look," whispered Frodo, pointing downwards. At once, Strider pulled Frodo and Merry down with him, Severus following after Frodo, his arm still clutched by Frodo. 

Slowly they crawled up to the edge of the ring again and peered through a cleft between two jagged stones. The light was no longer bright, for the clear morning had faded, and clouds creeping out of the East had now overtaken the sun, as it began to go down. They could all see the black specks, but neither Frodo nor Merry could make out their shapes for certain; yet something told them that there, far below, were Black Riders assembling on the Road beyond the foot of the hill.

“Yes,” said Strider, whose keener sight left him in no doubt. “The enemy is here!”

Hastily, they crept away and slipped down the north side of the hill to find their companions.

Sam and Peregrin had not been idle. They had explored the small dell and the surrounding slopes. Not far away they found a spring of clear water in the hillside and near it footprints not more than a day or two old. In the dell itself, they found recent traces of fire and other signs of a hasty camp. There were some fallen rocks on the edge of the dell nearest to the hill. Behind them, Sam came upon a small store of firewood neatly stacked.

“I wonder if old Gandalf has been here,” he said to Pippin. “Whomever it was put this stuff here meant to come back it seems.”

Strider was greatly interested in these discoveries. “I wish I had waited and explored the ground down here myself,” he said, hurrying off to the spring to examine the footprints.

“It is just as I feared,” he said when he came back. “Sam and Pippin have trampled the soft ground, and the marks are spoilt or confused. Rangers have been here lately. It is they who left the firewood behind. But there are also several newer tracks that were not made by Rangers. At least one set was made, only a day or two ago, by heavy boots. At least one. I cannot now be certain, but I think there were many booted feet.” He paused and stood in anxious thought.

Immediately, everyone’s thoughts return to the vision of cloaked and booted Riders. If the horsemen had already found the dell, the sooner Strider led them somewhere else the better. Sam viewed the hollow with great dislike, now that he had heard news of their enemies on the Road, only a few miles away.

“Hadn't we better clear out quick, Mr. Strider?” he asked impatiently. “It is getting late, and I don't like this hole: it makes my heart sink somehow.”

“Yes, we certainly must decide what to do at once,” answered Strider, looking up and considering the time and the weather. “Well, Sam,” he said at last, “I do not like this place either, but I cannot think of anywhere better than we could reach before nightfall. At least we are out of sight for the moment, and if we moved we should be much more likely to be seen by spies. All we could do would be to go right out of our way back north on this side of the line of hills, where the land is all much the same as it is here. The Road is watched, but we should have to cross it if we tried to take cover in the thickets away to the south. On the north side of the Road beyond the hills, the country is bare and flat for miles.”

“Can the Riders see?” asked Merry. “I mean, they seem usually to have used their noses rather than their eyes, smelling for us, if smell is the right word, at least in the daylight. But you made us lie down flat when you saw them down below, and now you talk of being seen if we move.”

“I was too careless on the hill-top,” answered Strider. Severus snorted and Frodo lightly whacked him at the side. Strider looked at him, regret in his eyes. ”I was very anxious to find some sign of Gandalf, but it was a mistake for four of us to go up and stand there so long. For the black horses can see, and the Riders can use men and other creatures as spies, as we found at Bree. They themselves do not see the world of light as we do, but our shapes cast shadows in their minds, which only the noon sun destroys; and in the dark, they perceive many signs and forms that are hidden from us: then they are most to be feared. And at all times they smell the blood of living things, desiring and hating it. Senses, too, there are other than sight or smell. We can feel their presence - it troubled our hearts, as soon as we came here, and before we saw them; they feel ours more keenly. Also,” he added, and his voice sank to a whisper, “the Ring draws them.'

“Is there no escape then?” said Frodo, looking around wildly. “If I move I shall be seen and hunted! If I stay, I shall draw them to me!”

Strider laid his hand on his shoulder. “There is still hope,” he said. “You are not alone. Let us take this wood that is set ready for the fire as a sign. There is little shelter or defense here, but a fire shall serve for both. Sauron can put fire to his evil uses, as he can all things, but these Riders do not love it and fear those who wield it. Fire is our friend in the wilderness.”

“Maybe,” muttered Sam. “It is also as good a way of saying ‘here we are’ as I can think of, bar shouting.”

“I have to agree with Sam,” said Severus. “It is a beacon to our location. I don’t think we should draw further attention to us.”

“Even so, it is a risk we should take.”

“Like coming here was a risk we should have taken” replied Severus nastily. 

The Hobbits stood awkwardly as the tension rose between the men. Aragorn nodded his head lightly, completely aware and understanding of Severus’s feeling towards the man. It is not entirely his fault, Severus knew, but if he had simply listened, they could have been hidden away by now, far from here. 

“For that,” Aragorn started finally, “I am sorry. But it is better to have the fire burning now, reachable, rather than trying to start one should we be attacked.”  
Still, Severus did not agree with the man. He knew that he could easily configure fire with his wand, but they did not possess the same powers that he did. Glancing at the Hobbits, Severus finally noticed that they were scared. The darkness only seems to scare them more as the sky turned to dusk- the darkness surrounding them hungrily. It was still foolish, thought Severus, but he tightly nodded his head and watched as Strider started a fire from the wood collected by Pippin and Sam. 

After the awkward moment had passed, the Hobbits began to start a meal. The shades of evening began to fall, and it grew cold. They were suddenly aware of great hunger, for they had not eaten anything since breakfast; but they dared not make more than a frugal supper. The lands ahead were empty of all save birds and beasts, unfriendly places deserted by all the races of the world. Rangers passed at times beyond the hills, but they were few and did not stay. Other wanderers were rare, and of the evil sort: trolls might stray down at times out of the northern valleys of the Misty Mountains. Only on the Road would travelers be found, most often dwarves, hurrying along on business of their own, and with no help and few words to spare for strangers.

“I don't see how our food can be made to last,” said Frodo. “We have been careful enough in the last few days, and this supper is no feast, but we have used more than we ought if we have two weeks still to go, and perhaps more.”

Severus agreed with Frodo. Despite the amount that they had packed, the Hobbits appetite was rather notorious. Severus usually left the food for Sam to cook and used, but he may have used a little more than he should. It was not his fault, Severus should have taken better notice of their rations. But while there was still plenty left, there was still enough to last a week. 

Thinking along the same lines at Strider, Severus pulled a root from his bag. The Hobbits stared at it distastefully. 

Jerking his head, Strider focused on the root that Severus held. 

“There is food in the wild,” said Strider; “berry, root, and herb; and I have some skill as a hunter at need. You need not be afraid of starving before winter comes. But gathering and catching food is long and tiring work, and we need haste. So tighten your belts, and think with hope of the tables of Elrond's house!”

Nonetheless, Severus feared that the journey would pass Elrond’s house and that he would not be near the Hobbits always. While Severus would rather have anyone separate him from the Hobbits over his dead body, he could not be certain that he could keep all of them together. There were forces greater than him and they may stray onto different paths. And while Sam’s knowledge of roots, berries, and herbs was mediocre at best (despite being a gardener), he did not dismiss the thought that they would mistake something and cause an early death. 

Severus couldn’t expect to be with them always and he decided that he should teach them how to distinguish which were safe to eat and which ones weren’t in the case they are ever to be separated. He did not like the thought, but he knew better than to risk it. If he were to come into some paper and ink, he would even create a handbook for them. 

As Severus mentally noted his plans for the book, he became almost unaware of the cold that had increased as darkness came on. Peering out from the edge of the dell they could see nothing but a grey land now vanishing quickly into shadow. The sky above had cleared again and was slowly filled with twinkling stars. Frodo and the rest of the Hobbits huddled around the fire, wrapped in every garment and blanket they possessed; but Strider was content with a single cloak, and sat a little apart, drawing thoughtfully at his pipe. But even as they all seemed to be fine, the fire was not big and it did not provide all the much comfort. 

Sighing, Severus raised his wand and placed a heating charm on all of them, including Aragorn who sat somewhat straighter at the strange and sudden feeling. The Hobbits smiled at him at the action. 

As night fell and the light of the fire began to shine out brightly, Strider began to tell them tales to keep their minds from fear. He knew many histories and legends of long ago, of Elves and Men and the good and evil deeds of the Elder Days. They wondered how old he was, and where he had learned all this lore, but none dared ask. 

Severus assumed that the man was secretive about his past as much as he was. Severus could only imagine what he could be hiding, but other than that time at Bree, he did not dare enter his mind again. 

Soon, after many stories, Aragorn has stopped once it was dark. And while Severus was sure that Aragorn knew more stories than he led on, he seemed almost troubled, as if he was being reminded of a past long lost. Severus recognized the hazy look in Aragorn's eyes; he's seen it in himself many times. 

Unfortunately, the Hobbits still seemed to be unsatisfied and were still worried despite the many stories that were told. Spontaneously, Merry had asked him for a story. There were not many for him to tell and he was quite sure that Merry wanted more information about his past and his home, but Severus refused to reveal his plight and his regrets to the young hobbits. It was not ideal for them to be fearful of him now. And while Severus hoped that he had successfully repented for his sins, Severus did not think they would say the same. Instead, mulling over the many legends and stories that he's read over the years, Severus told them the story of the Deathly Hallows, a story he knew by heart from months of studying after Dumbledore's death. 

"There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at Twilight..." he began. The Hobbits listened intently. Even after years of living in the Shire, Severus rarely, if he ever had, revealed anything of his past. Even Strider, who hid his features well, seemed to be enthralled with the story that was like none that they heard before. Aragorn spoke of places far off and wars lost in time. However, Severus, who simply told a bedtime story, had offered them a different world entirely. Like their stories, rich and entertaining, this one was based on history. 

It was almost fearful in many places and the strong theme of death was probably not the best story to tell, but it was the only one he was willing to share. 

When it reached the part of the stone, both Frodo and Aragorn seemed particularly perplexed yet wistful at the concept. Severus did not know of what Aragorn was thinking, or whom he was thinking of, but it was no secret of Frodo’s. He was sure that he was thinking of his parents whom he longs to meet, but alas, the story ranged true. It is better to leave the dead alone and remain with the living. 

Soon, after the story was done, the hobbits moved and stretched. 

“Look!” said Merry. “The Moon is rising: it must be getting late.”

The others looked up. Even as they did so, they saw on the top of the hill something small and dark against the glimmer of the moonrise. It was perhaps only a large stone or jutting rock shown up by the pale light.

Sam and Merry got up and walked away from the fire. Frodo and Pippin remained seated in silence. Strider was watching the moonlight on the hill intently. All seemed quiet and still, but Severus felt a cold dread once the silence loomed over.  Severus watched as Frodo shivered and huddled closer to the fire. He looked pale and his lips almost look blue. It was not cold, but it was almost like he was near death itself. At that moment Sam came running back from the edge of the dell.

“I don't know what it is,” he said, “but I suddenly felt afraid. I durstn't go outside this dell for any money; I felt that something was creeping up the slope.”

“Did you see anything?” asked Severus, springing to his feet.

“No, sir. I saw nothing, but I didn't stop to look.”

“I saw something,” said Merry; “or I thought I did - away westwards where the moonlight was falling on the flats beyond the shadow of the hill-tops, I thought there were two or three black shapes. They seemed to be moving this way.”

“Keep close to the fire, with your faces outward!” cried, Strider. 'Get some of the longer sticks ready in your hands!”

They moved quickly and Severus had already drawn up his wand. Severus stood side by side Aragorn as they listened for anything out of the ordinary. 

For a breathless time, the Hobbits sat there, silent and alert, with their backs turned to the wood-fire, each gazing into the shadows that encircled them. Nothing happened. There was no sound or movement in the night. Frodo stirred, feeling that he must break the silence: he longed to shout out aloud.

“Hush!” whispered Strider. “What's that?” gasped Pippin at the same moment.

Over the lip of the little dell, on the side away from the hill, they felt, rather than saw, a shadow rise, one shadow or more than one. They strained their eyes, and the shadows seemed to grow. Soon there could be no doubt: three or four tall black figures were standing there on the slope, looking down on them. So black were they that they seemed like black holes in the deep shade behind them. Severus thought that he heard a faint hiss as of venomous breath and felt a thin piercing chill. Dread filled him when it reminded him of Nagini, but he stood firmly as the shapes slowly advanced.

* * *

 

Terror overcame Pippin and Merry, and they threw themselves flat on the ground. Sam shrank to Frodo's side. Frodo was hardly less terrified than his companions; he was quaking as if he was bitter cold, but his terror was swallowed up in a sudden temptation to put on the Ring. The desire to do this laid hold of him and he could think of nothing else. He did not forget the Barrow, nor the message of Gandalf, but something seemed to be compelling him to disregard all warnings, and he longed to yield. Not with the hope of escape, or of doing anything, either good or bad: he simply felt that he must take the Ring and put it on his finger. He could not speak. He felt Sam looking at him as if he knew that his master was in some great trouble, but he could not turn towards him. He shut his eyes and struggled for a while, but resistance became unbearable, and at last, he slowly drew out the chain and slipped the Ring on the forefinger of his left hand.

Immediately, though everything else remained as before, dim and dark, the shapes became terribly clear. He was able to see beneath their black wrappings. There were five tall figures: two standing on the lip of the dell, three advancing. In their white faces burned keen and merciless eyes; under their mantles were long grey robes; upon their grey hairs were helms of silver; in their haggard hands were swords of steel. Their eyes fell on him and pierced him, as they rushed towards him. Desperate, he drew his own sword, and it seemed to him that it flickered red, as if it was a firebrand. Two of the figures halted. The third was taller than the others: his hair was long and gleaming and on his helm was a crown. In one hand he held a long sword, and in the other, a knife; both the knife and the hand that held it glowed with a pale light. He sprang forward and bore down on Frodo.

At that moment Frodo threw himself forward on the ground, and he heard himself crying aloud: O Elbereth! Gilthoniel! At the same time, he struck at the feet of his enemy. A shrill cry rang out in the night, and he felt a pain like a dart of poisoned ice pierce his left shoulder. Even as he swooned he caught, as through a swirling mist, a glimpse of Strider leaping out of the darkness with a flaming brand of wood in either hand. With the last effort Frodo, dropping his sword, slipped the Ring from his finger and closed his right hand tight upon it.

 

* * *

Severus had focused solely on the creatures in front of him that he didn’t notice the inner turmoil that seemed to overtake Frodo. It was only when something ringed at the back of his mind did he notice something was wrong. 

Before he or Sam could stop him, Severus watched horrified as Frodo put on the ring. Instantly, he disappeared and the Black Riders advanced quickly, compelled by the ring to attack and restore it to their master. 

Severus finally called the fire from his wand and aimed it the riders, but there was so many. As he continues to deflect them with small balls of fire, Severus swore he heard Frodo scream, as faint as it was. To his right, Severus could see Aragorn fighting his own, swinging a torch feverishly at the riders, pushing them back. But it was too much. They were surrounded. 

Almost desperately, Severus surveyed for an escape but found none. Then, suddenly, Frodo appeared again. The Hobbits swooped in and regarded him carefully, whispering words that Severus could not hear. Making up his mind, Severus pushed the Hobbits behind him and pulled Aragorn to join them. Moving his wand and muttering an incantation, the fire surrounded them in a circle and then suddenly burst high flames. 

The Riders screamed and Severus clenched his teeth at the noise, but he did not stop. He waved his wand towards them, drawing out the fire further and further towards them.  Then, as if it was a trick of the light, the riders were gone. Aragorn quickly left and scouted the area to find them while Severus breathed out deeply and stared at Frodo who was still lying as if dead, face downwards on the grass with his sword beneath him. Severus ordered them to pick him up and lay him near the fire, as they waited for Strider’s return. That was a while ago. 

In the meantime, Severus had already removed Frodo’s outer garment and was gazing at the deep gash at his shoulder. It had happened moments before, but it was already black and faintly green. It was nothing that Severus had ever seen, but at a closer inspection, he deduced that it was a poison of sorts or it could be from a cursed object, he wasn’t sure. 

Rummaging through his bag, Severus pulled out a bezoar. He was not sure what kind of poison that was used if one was indeed used, but Severus hoped that it would help nonetheless. Ordering Sam to move Frodo’s head, Severus shoved the bezoar down Frodo’s throat. Watching intently, Severus looked at his wound and cleaned it with a spell, but the bezoar seemed to have no effect on the wound. 

Severus rummaged through his bag and pulled some herbs that he placed directly on the wound to stop further infection. As Severus continued to check over Frodo, he found that Frodo seemed to only get colder and paler. Using his wand, Severus placed a warm heating charm on him, but it did nothing to stop it. He felt cold as death. 

Fear began to overtake him just as Strider returned. Immediately, Strider moved to his side and looked at the damage. By now, his eyes were pale and Frodo was gasping as if there was no air. 

Severus listened to Aragorn’s findings, but he did not stop his movement. He feared that if he stopped for a second, he would lose Frodo. It if it was not poison, then dark magic was at work, but Severus knew nothing of the cause and he did not know how to reverse the damage.

"I think I understand things better now,” he said in a low voice. “There seem only to have been five of the enemy. Why they were not all here, I don't know; but I don't think they expected to be resisted. They have drawn off for the time being. But not far, I fear. They will come again another night if we cannot escape. They are only waiting because they think that their purpose is almost accomplished and that the Ring cannot fly much further. Frodo is in great danger."

At that moment, Aragorn pulled out a hilt of a knife and Severus knew that it was the weapon that hurt Frodo, but he soon put it away and moved towards Severus. 

Instantly, Aragorn pulled out a small herb from his small brown pouch. It looked similar to Acanthaceae or possibly basil, but it was not quite it.  He then pushed away Severus’s hands and placed the new plants on the wound and began to murmur something that Severus didn’t understand. 

This was, in a way, a level of magical medicine, but Aragorn didn’t seem to be that well known in the art. 

“These leaves,” he said, “I have walked far to find; for this plant does not grow in the bare hills, but in the thickets away south of the Road I found it in the dark by the scent of its leaves.”

He crushed a leaf in his fingers, and it gave out a sweet and pungent fragrance. “It is fortunate that I could find it, for it is a healing plant that the Men of the West brought to Middle-earth. Athelas they named it, and it grows now sparsely and only near places where they dwelt or camped of old; and it is not known in the North, except to some of those who wander in the Wild. It has great virtues, but over such a wound as this its healing powers may be small.”

He threw the leaves into boiling water and bathed Frodo's shoulder. The fragrance of the steam was refreshing, and those that were unhurt felt their minds calmed and cleared. The herb had also some power over the wound, for Frodo felt the pain and also the sense of frozen cold lessen in his side; but the life did not return to his arm, and he could not raise or use his hand.

With quick words with Strider, both men agreed that they must leave Weathertop as soon as possible. As soon as the daylight was full, they had some hurried food and packed. It was impossible for Frodo to walk, so Severus took it upon himself to levitate him on the way there. It was draining at his powers, but they had no better option. 

They started off in a southerly direction. This would mean crossing the Road, but. it was the quickest way to the more wooded country. It was also taken to shorten their journey by cutting across another great loop of the Road: east beyond Weathertop it changed its course and took a wide bend northwards.

They made their way slowly and cautiously round the south-western slopes of the hill, and came in a little while to the edge of the Road. There was no sign of the Riders. But even as they were hurrying across they heard far away two cries: a cold voice calling and a cold voice answering. Trembling they sprang forward, and made for the thickets that lay ahead. The land before them sloped away southwards, but it was wild and pathless; bushes and stunted trees grew in dense patches with wide barren spaces in between. The grass was scanty, coarse, and grey; and the leaves in the thickets were faded and falling. It was a cheerless land, and their journey was slow and gloomy. They spoke little as they trudged along. Frodo's heart was grieved as he watched them walking beside him with their heads down, and their backs bowed under their burdens. Even Strider seemed tired and heavy-hearted.

Before the first day's march was over Frodo's pain began to grow again, but he did not speak of it for a long time. Four days passed, without the ground or the scene changing much, except that behind them Weathertop slowly sank, and before them, the distant mountains loomed a little nearer. Yet since that far cry, they had seen and heard no sign that the enemy had marked their flight or followed them. They dreaded the dark hours, and kept watch in pairs by night, expecting at any time to see black shapes stalking in the grey night, dimly lit by the cloud-veiled moon; but they saw nothing, and heard no sound but the sigh of withered leaves and grass. Not once did they feel the sense of present evil that had assailed them before the attack in the dell. It seemed too much to hope that the Riders had already lost their trail again. Perhaps they were waiting to make some ambush in a narrow place?

At the end of the fifth day, the ground began once more to rise slowly out of the wide shallow valley into which they had descended. Strider now turned their course again north-eastwards, and on the sixth day they reached the top of a long slow-climbing slope and saw far ahead of a huddle of wooded hills. Away below them, they could see the Road sweeping round the feet of the hills; and to their right, a grey river gleamed pale in the thin sunshine. In the distance, they glimpsed yet another river in a stony valley half-veiled in mist.

Next day, early in the morning, they came down again to the borders of the Road. Sam and Strider went forward, but they found no sign of any travelers or riders. Here under the shadow of the hills, there had been some rain. Strider judged that it had fallen two days before, and had washed away all footprints. No horseman had passed since then, as far as he could see.

They hurried along with all the speed they could make, and after a mile or two they saw the Last Bridge ahead, at the bottom of a short steep slope. They dreaded to see black figures waiting there, but they saw none. Strider made them take cover in a thicket at the side of the Road, while he went forward to explore. Severus took this as a time to rest his magic. They have traveled for days and he had already started to feel a strain on his magical core. Rubbing his chest, Severus gazed at Frodo was asleep. He had become weaker as the days continue and no matter what he or Aragorn did seemed to help. However, Aragorn assured him of a healer capable of healing Frodo, they only need to get him to him. 

Soon, Aragorn came back with a small green gem, excited that they were close. Yet, it seemed that they had traveled too far and had needed to redirect their path. They passed many things, even meeting the trolls that Bilbo had met decades before. 

As they progressed, Severus felt his body weaken more and he noticed that he was becoming more tired than usual. When Severus had almost staggered, nearly dropping Frodo as he did, Aragorn deemed it was time for rest. 

They were beginning to look out for a place off the Road, where they could camp for the night when they heard a sound that brought sudden fear back into their hearts: the noise of hoofs behind them. They looked back, but they could not see far because of the many windings and rollings of the Road. As quickly as they could they scrambled off the beaten way and up into the deep heather and bilberry brushwood on the slopes above until they came to a small patch of thick-growing hazels. As they peered out from among the bushes, they could see the Road, faint and grey in the failing light, some thirty feel below them. The sound of hoofs drew nearer. They were going fast, with a light clippety-clippely-clip. Then faintly, as if it was blown away from them by the breeze, they seemed to catch a dim ringing, as of small bells tinkling.

“That does not sound like a Black Rider's horse!” said Sam, listening intently. The other hobbits agreed hopefully that it did not, but they all remained full of suspicion. They had been in fear of pursuit for so long that any sound from behind seemed ominous and unfriendly. But Strider was now leaning forward, stooped to the ground, with a hand to his ear, and a look of joy on his face. As tired as he was, Severus still thought he looked crazy. 

The light faded, and the leaves on the bushes rustled softly. Clearer and nearer now the bells jingled, and clippety-clip came the quick trotting feet. Suddenly into view below came a white horse, gleaming in the shadows, running swiftly. In the dusk its headstall flickered and flashed, as if it were studded with gems like living stars. The rider's cloak streamed behind him, and his hood was thrown back; his golden hair flowed shimmering in the wind of his speed. To Severus, it appeared that it was like a white light shining through the form and raiment of the rider, as if through a thin veil.

Strider sprang from hiding and dashed down towards the Road, leaping with a cry through the heather; but even before he had moved or called, the rider had reined in his horse and halted, looking up towards the thicket where they stood. When he saw Strider, he dismounted and ran to meet him calling out:  _ “Ai na vedui Dúnadan! Mae govannen!”  _

His speech and clear ringing voice left no doubt in their hearts: the rider was of the Elven-folk. No others that dwelt in the wide world had voices so fair to hear. But there seemed to be a note of haste or fear in his call, and they saw that he was now speaking quickly and urgently to Strider.

Soon Strider beckoned to them, and the hobbits left the bushes and hurried down to the Road, Severus staying behind to care to Frodo, but was well in the view of everyone, including the elven rider. 'This is Glorfindel, who dwells in the house of Elrond,”  said Strider.

“Hail, and well met at last!” said the Elf-lord to Frodo and to Severus. “I was sent from Rivendell to look for you. We feared that you were in danger upon the road.”

“Then Gandalf has reached Rivendell?” asked Severus.

“No. He had not when I departed, but that was nine days ago,” answered Glorfindel. “Elrond received news that troubled him. Some of my kindred, journeying in your land beyond the Baranduin, learned that things were amiss, and sent messages as swiftly as they could. They said that the Nine were abroad, and that you were astray bearing a great burden without guidance, for Gandalf had not returned. There are few even in Rivendell that can ride openly against the Nine; but such as there were, Elrond sent out north, west, and south. It was thought that you might turn far aside to avoid pursuit, and become lost in the Wilderness.

“It was my lot to take the Road, and I came to the Bridge of Mitheithel, and left a token there, nigh on seven days ago. Three of the servants of Sauron were upon the Bridge, but they withdrew and I pursued them westward. I came also upon two others, but they turned away southward. Since then I have searched for your trail. Two days ago I found it and followed it over the Bridge, and today I marked where you descended from the hills again. But come! There is no time for further news. Since you are here we must risk the peril of the Road and go. There are five behind us, and when they find your trail upon the Road they will ride after us like the wind. And they are not all. Where the other four may be, I do not know. I fear that we may find the Ford is already held against us.'

While Glorfindel was speaking the shades of evening deepened. Severus felt a great weariness come over him. Ever since the sun began to sink the mist before his eyes had darkened, and he felt that a shadow was coming between him and the others. There was sinking feeling that filled Severus again and he feared the worst. Now pain assailed him, and he felt cold. He swayed, clutching at his chest, breathing deeply. Just the same, Frodo, who was sitting on a rock moments before, nearly fell forward. However, Glorfindel caught Frodo as he sank to the ground, and taking him gently in his arms he looked in his face with grave anxiety.

Briefly, Strider told of the attack on their camp under Weathertop, and of the deadly knife. He drew out the hilt, which he had kept, and handed it to the Elf. Glorfindel shuddered as he took it, but he looked intently at it.

“There are evil things written on this hilt,” he said; “though maybe your eyes cannot see them. Keep it, Aragorn, till we reach the house of Elrond! But be wary, and handle it as little as you may! Alas! the wounds of this weapon are beyond my skill to heal. I will do what I can - but all the more do I urge you now to go on without rest.”

He searched the wound on Frodo's shoulder with his fingers, and his face grew graver, as if what he learned disquieted him. 

“You shall ride my horse,” said Glorfindel. “I will shorten the stirrups up to the saddle-skins, and you must sit as tight as you can. But you need not fear: my horse will not let any rider fall that I command him to bear. His pace is light and smooth; and if danger presses too near, he will bear you away with a speed that even the black steeds of the enemy cannot rival.”

“No, he will not!” said Frodo sternly, but weakly. “I shall not ride him, if I am to be carried off to Rivendell or anywhere else, leaving my friends behind in danger.”

Glorfindel smiled. “I doubt very much,” he said, “if your friends would be in danger if you were not with them! The pursuit would follow you and leave us in peace, I think. It is you, Frodo, and that which you bear that brings us all in peril.”

To that Frodo had no answer, and he was persuaded to mount Glorfindel's white horse. The pony was laden instead with a great part of the others' burdens so that they now marched lighter, and for a time made good speed, but the hobbits began to find it hard to keep up with the swift tireless feet of the Elf. On he led them, into the mouth of darkness, and still on under the deep clouded night. There was neither star nor moon. Not until the grey of dawn did he allow them to halt. Pippin, Merry, and Sam were by that time nearly asleep on their stumbling legs; and even Strider and Severus seemed by the sag of their shoulders to be wary. Frodo sat upon the horse in a dark dream.

They cast themselves down in the heather a few yards from the road-side, and fell asleep immediately. They seemed hardly to have closed their eyes when Glorfindel, who had set himself to watch while they slept, awoke them again. The sun had now climbed far into the morning, and the clouds and mists of the night were gone.

“Drink this!” said Glorfindel to them, pouring for each in turn a little liquor from his silver-studded flask of leather. It was clear as spring water and had no taste, and it did not feel either cool or warm in the mouth; but strength and vigour seemed to flow into all their limbs as they drank it. Eaten after that draught the stale bread and dried fruit (which was now all that they had left) seemed to satisfy their hunger better than many a good breakfast in the Shire had done.

They had rested rather less than five hours when they took to the Road again. Glorfindel still urged them on, and only allowed two brief halts during the day's march. In this way they covered almost twenty miles before nightfall, and came to a point where the Road bent right and ran down towards the bottom of the valley, now making straight for the Bruinen. So far there had been no sign or sound of pursuit that the hobbits could see or hear; but often Glorfindel would halt and listen for a moment, if they lagged behind, and a look of anxiety clouded his face. Once or twice he spoke to Strider in the elf-tongue.

But however anxious their guides might be, it was plain that the hobbits could go no further that night. They were stumbling along dizzy with weariness, and unable to think of anything but their feet and legs. Frodo's pain had redoubled, and during the day things about him faded to shadows of ghostly grey. He almost welcomed the coming of night, for then the world seemed less pale and empty.

The hobbits were still weary, when they set out again early next morning. There were many miles yet to go between them and the Ford, and they hobbled forward at the best pace they could manage.

“Our peril will be greatest just ere we reach the river,” said Glorfindel; “for my heart warns me that the pursuit is now swift behind us, and other danger may be waiting by the Ford.”

The Road was still running steadily downhill, and there was now in places much grass at either side, in which the hobbits walked when they could, to ease their tired feet. In the late afternoon they came to a place where the Road went suddenly under the dark shadow of tall pine-trees, and then plunged into a deep cutting with steep moist walls of red stone. Echoes ran along as they hurried forward; and there seemed to be a sound of many footfalls following their own. All at once, as if through a gate of light, the Road ran out again from the end of the tunnel into the open. There at the bottom of a sharp incline they saw before them a long flat mile, and beyond that the Ford of Rivendell. On the further side was a steep brown bank, threaded by a winding path; and behind that the tall mountains climbed, shoulder above shoulder, and peak beyond peak, into the fading sky.

There was still an echo as of following feet in the cutting behind them; a rushing noise as if a wind were rising and pouring through the branches of the pines. One moment Glorfindel turned and listened, then he sprang forward with a loud cry.

“Fly!” he called. “Fly! The enemy is upon us!”

The white horse leaped forward. The hobbits ran down the slope. Glorfindel, Severus, and Strider followed as rear-guard. They were only half way across the flat, when suddenly there was a noise of horses galloping. Out of the gate in the trees that they had just left rode a Black Rider. He reined his horse in, and halted, swaying in his saddle. Another followed him, and then another; then again two more.

“Ride forward! Ride!” cried Glorfindel to Frodo. “Noro lim, noro lim, Asfaloth!”

At once the white horse sprang away and sped like the wind along the last lap of the Road. At the same moment the black horses leaped down the hill in pursuit, and from the Riders came a terrible cry. It was answered, and to the dismay of Severus, he watched horrified as two rode towards Frodo: two galloped madly towards the Ford to cut off his escape. 

Fear now filled all of Severus’s mind as he watched Frodo disappear, the riders following close behind. But before Severus could utter a word or spell, his vision went black. The last thing he remembered was his name being called out, faint but loud. 


	13. Rivendell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the late update. I forgot that midterms were a thing and I was too busy studying and taking extra shifts at work to write something for you guys.

Severus could feel a warm light touch his skin. He could hear the soft song of the birds and the moving water from a small stream. The air was sweet and warm, filled with trees and flowers as if he was locked in constant spring and summer. He had never felt such bliss at this moment he found himself in. 

 

His muscles felt stiff and he briefly played with the idea that he must have slept in late and missed the morning breakfast back at the Shire. But he barely seemed to mind and he found himself being lulled back to sleep by the warm sun and the soft, cool sheets of the bed. 

 

But just then, memories began to swarm his vision of Frodo, the black riders, and his own falling, and he soon found himself waking up in a strange room. The room itself was filled with light and seem to glow heavenly. The room was well furnished and outside the window beside his bed showed great marble and plant life. It briefly reminded him of Hogwarts during mid-spring. 

 

Yet, he was momentarily surprised to find a beautiful woman standing at the edge of the bed he laid on. She was tall, thin, and had long brown hair the fell passed her pointy ears and shoulders in long waves. Above her brow, her head was covered with a cap of silver lace netted with small gems, glittering white; but her soft grey raiment had no ornament save a girdle of leaves wrought in silver. Her skin was pale and unblemished; Her lips were a soft pink, curved and lush; and her eyes were a soft grey eyes

 

She smiled at him warmly and he found himself breathless at the sheer beauty of the woman in front him. Her clear face was flawless and smooth, and the light of stars was in her bright eyes. It all had briefly made him feel displeasing in her presence. Years of torment from the Marauders temporarily played itself in his mind. Memories of his features being mocked had done some long-lasting damage, but they barely matter in times of war and death, yet it seemed that even now, a man at the age of sixty-two, could feel so terrible of his hair and nose. However, he pushed those memories and feelings away as he had always done. 

 

"Welcome Severus Snape to my Ada's home, Rivendell: The House of Elrond," she said. Her voice was soft and it twinkled like bells. For a split second, she gazed downwards towards his necklace that laid visibly on his chest. "My name is Arwen and you may call me as such. "

 

Sitting up, Severus cleared his throat and hurriedly hid away the silver leaf before accepting the glass of water offered to him. The woman watched him, an amused smile on her lips, as she sat on a chair just foot away from the bed. 

 

"How long have I been here asleep?"

 

"You have been asleep for a fortnight."

 

"Two weeks?" coughed out Severus. Arwen's smile had turned briefly grim. 

 

"Yes. Deep darkness has made itself inside of you and it is eating away your life force. We do not entirely know what it is,  but you were beginning to fade. My Ada began to heal you, but he still does not know what to make of it. It is not every day Lord Elrond is unknowing." 

 

There was a small spark of fear in her eyes which returned to the pendant that shimmered through his thin cotton shirt. 

 

Looking down, Severus swallowed something foul. Millions of thoughts flooded his mind. Hundreds of books seemed to flip inside his head as he tried to key his symptoms to anything he's learned from the Dark Arts and in Medicine, but nothing came up promising. However, no matter what the case it seemed to be, it always seemed to lead to the same cause, yet he hoped he was wrong. It would be better to seek advice from Gandalf or he must rely on his tuition. 

 

"Where is Frodo?" he asked finally. " And the others? Are they alright?"

 

"Mr. Baggins and his friends are fine. He is still resting in his rooms with Gandalf."

 

"Gandalf is here?" he asked

 

"Yes," she said. "He's been here for a few days now. You may see them if you wish." She gestured towards the door that laid open. "I will take you there."

 

With no other words of encouragement needed, Severus sprang out of the bed and stood momentarily dazed before he started to heave and cough. His legs felt weak and his body felt worn and drained. 

 

"Breathe, Mellon. You are still healing."

 

Coughing more, Severus's whole body shook and it took him longer than he liked to breathe properly again. But the woman had remained patient and careful as to help ease him back to his bed to sit. She rubbed at his back and he felt a moment of nostalgic bliss to when his own mother used to comfort him. 

 

After he was sure he would be fine, Severus stood on shakily legs. He denied the help that was offered to him and slowly shuffled his way towards the door. Once he passed through, his breath was caught in his throat once again at the beauty that surrounded him 

 

All the plants and trees were a bright green and the sun shone brightly, making the waters shine like diamonds. There were several people walking about, all of them tall and beautiful: the elven folk that lived here.

 

He used to dream about visiting Rivendell, enthralled with the beauty from Bilbo's stories and the few illustrates he had drawn that remained scattered back at Bag End. But nothing could prepare him for it to see it in its entirety. It reminded him when he first saw Hogwarts a lifetime ago. There was a childish wonder in the way Rivendell seemed to be. It was a new sense of magic and adventure that Severus almost has forgotten in his time here in Middle Earth. It reminded him that there were things beyond the borders of the shire. He believed himself blind to almost forget the magic that radiant the earth, both from his world and in this one.  

 

Without even noticing it, he had closed his eyes and felt his shoulders lax, removing all tension and anxiety in his body in a simple sigh. It was like the earth and its magical flow was restoring itself into his soul and body and he could feel himself stand just a tab bit straighter and at ease. He felt anew and young as he stood in the sunlight, enjoying the light that the home provided. His body was connecting to the world much like when he first came here, but it also seemed to leave a burn at his chest and he found it almost hard to breathe. 

 

"Mr. Snape!" cried a voice. 

 

Severus looked to his right to see three young hobbits making their way towards them. The pure delight and relief on their faces left him surprised. 

 

As soon as they got near, all hobbits rushed towards him and hugged him tightly. 

 

"We were so worried, Mr. Snape" continued Sam on the verge of tears. "We thought we lost you when you had collapsed."

 

Pippin nodded, pulling him down towards a passage, but not before smiling at Lady Arwen who smiled and laugh softly at their antics. "It was a good thing that Strider had caught you. You would've bust your head on the rocks!"

 

"But it is so good to see you up and well! We were just on our way to visit you. How glad are we to see you up and well!" replied Merry, as he followed on Severus's right towards a large hall, where a long table sat, filled with drinks, bread, and fruit. The room was filled with many Elven folks, but there were others as well. 

 

Arwen remained in the back, almost forgotten by the hobbits and Severus, but seemed to enjoy the life they brought. 

 

She continued to smile as she watched the hobbits dragged Severus, talking rapidly of their tales and findings. 

 

"We were hoping that either you or Mister Frodo would wake up soon, especially since Gandalf has arrived just a few days ago," said Sam as he plated some food in front of Severus. 

 

"And Gandalf, Sam? Do you know where he is?"

 

Nervously, Sam fiddled with his fingers before answering. "I suppose he is still with Mr. Frodo back his in his room, sir. He had told me I best get the others and eat lunch, but we decided to see you first!"

 

"Has Frodo not awaken yet?" asked Severus, taking small bites of the food and drink. The question was mostly direct at Arwen but Sam was very eager to answer.  

 

"No, sir. Gandalf supposes that he should be awake soon."

 

However, before Severus could question more, Severus was silenced by the presences of another man making his way towards them with the grace of a warrior. 

 

Soft music began to play as soon as he walked in and the sheer presence of the man was enough to capture his attention. 

 

He was tall with a stern face that was neither young nor old. He had long brown hair that matched the Arwen who smiled at the man, nodding slightly in his direction. His skin was more tan than she's, but the complexion was still shared between them. He stood tall and proud in warm colored robes. There was almost a crown-like garment on his head made of silver or iron. And his eyes were a cloudy grey where light still seemed to shine through a morning haze. 

 

As he came closer, the boys finally noticed his presences and bowed to him slightly, but Severus remained seated. He found that he did not possess the strength to get up again and nodded his greeting instead towards the elf. 

 

"Severus Snape," the elf said. Already thoughts were rushing in his head until they finally provided him with a name. 

 

"Lord Elrond" replied Severus. 

 

There was a soft twitch at the Lord's lip, but he barely seemed to mind it. The hobbits, however, were stuck between eating or watching the interaction in silence. 

 

"It is good to see that you have awakened. I began to fear that you may not wake up for many days."

 

Unsure of what to say, Severus nodded his head in silence, but the elf seemed to not be bothered by it.

 

"There are a few things that I wish to discuss with you, but I suppose there are more pressing matters that you wish to deal with it. If you are done-" he said gesturing towards his plate. Severus nodded- "then I suppose I shall lead you to Mr. Frodo's room."

 

With a simple wave, a servant had cleared his plate and Sam instantly helped Severus rise as he seemed to struggle to stand. While he had more strength than before, he knew better than to push his body past its limit. Years of Poppy nagging him resurfaced and he slowly made his way up. It wouldn't do good to endanger himself any more than he should. 

 

Rubbing at his chest absentmindedly, Severus followed the Elven Lord past the hall towards another corridor. While the man was very tall and he was sure that his steps could be quite large, they moved at a slow pace in silence. 

 

Even though Severus was unsure of what had caused him to fall so suddenly ill, he could not entirely understand at how weak his body seemed to be. There was a heavy-weight that seemed to unmoving and he felt a great deal of pressure in his chest. He was a man who had gone through two wars and had journeyed far and while he may be a lot older than he looked, Severus never felt so old and weak. 

 

It did not take them long to reach another passage where they found themselves in front of a large balcony where a tapestry laid on the wall. Severus was only able to catch a small glimpse before he was lead further down towards another room. The door was left slightly open and Elrond knocked once before entering and motioning Severus to follow through. 

 

Inside was a room similar to his own, but inside laid Frodo asleep in the bed and Gandalf smoking by the window on his right. 

 

With one final look, Elrond left, closing the door. 

 

Severus stared at Gandalf. He was, of course, happy to find the wizard alive and well, but bitter anger filled him as he continued to stare at the old man. 

 

Clearing his throat Gandalf greeted him. There was a slight frown on his face and he seemed to be thinking heavily on a singular thought. It reminded him of when Dumbledore would spend countless nights thinking of Harry and the war. The heaviness in their eyes did come with age, but he was sure that it came with loss. 

 

He knew that Gandalf would never abandon them and he had suspected that the wizard had landed himself in some sort of trouble, but Severus could not help but feel upset that he did not return to them as he had promised. There was a slight pink line at his old cheek and he knew that the old man must have fought through the time he was gone. 

 

Sighing, Severus shuffled toward the other empty seat across of Frodo and waited patiently for Gandalf to begin the tale that he knew was to come. 

 

It was relaxing to remain awake in their presence. He felt calmed by the Gandalf's presence and surety that Frodo would be fine. 

 

Almost suddenly, Gandalf seemed to snap out of a stupor and blinked surprised to find Severus sitting across from him as if he had never seen him before. 

 

Severus's lip slight turned downward, but he remained silent. 

 

Gandalf continued to puff white smoke from his pipe, ringings floating out the window before he spoke to him at last. 

 

"A most peculiar thing had happened, my dear boy."

 

Severus nearly flinched at the name, but years as a spy had allowed him to stop himself. If Gandalf noticed a change, he did not show it. 

 

"At the Ford, not only did Frodo suffer a nasty wound and was beginning to fade but so did you. However, the reason for your wound was most strange. It is something that I had never heard nor seen in all my years and it had left the great Lord Elrond at questioning ends. Had I not come when I did and offered my assistance, you would have been beyond our aid. But alas, you were indeed quite lucky as you were strong to hold off such darkness inside you for so long."

 

"Darkness?" questioned Severus. As far as he was sure he knew that he suffered no illness and no wound to harm him so deeply that he could feel his magic weakened considerably.

 

"Yes," nodded Gandalf. "You were touched by darkness from Mordor. It may not seem clear now, but as you fought against those black riders at Weathertop, one had gotten close enough to touch you. Unlike Frodo's cut, that was cursed upon in wound, yours ran deeper inside you and had clung to your very soul. It was eating away your magic, I fear.'   
"However, I fear that there may be another factor in all of this. From what I have been able to gather from the young hobbits, you rarely use your magic. For many years, I am sure you know that your abilities will be a lot slower and less powerful from disused.  While you are still quite powerful and strong, I am sure you have noticed a difference in your magic. It does not seem to respond so easily in this world as it did in yours."

 

As Severus listened to his words, theories began to form inside his head. Gandalf was right in his accusations. Gandalf smoked as he watched him silently. 

 

For a moment, neither of the wizards did anything to end the silence. They watched as the leaves outside the window move with the wind and listen to soft chatter below the balcony. 

 

"Are you suggesting," started Severus, "that I am losing my powers?"

 

Gandalf remained silent and simply blew out a puff a smoke. Severus gave him a blank look but didn't take any personal offense to the lack of acknowledgment. 

 

Looking back outside the window, Severus caught a glimpse of the Hobbits near the garden by the pool. Sam and Merry were laughing at something Pippin said. Severus smirked in response but frowned soon after. 

 

Returning his gaze back at Gandalf, Severus continued. "I never study Magical Theory other than what was required for spell-making. However, I have still read multiple journals and scrolls throughout my years as a student and as a teacher. One of the most accepted theories of magic is that there is magic that flows continuously in the world, possibly the universe. That same magic flows within us. However, there is a core that is directly linked to the soul. This core, or as modern wizards have dubbed it as the "Magical core" is what allows Magic folk the ability to manipulate the realities of the world around us. Depending on the strength of a person's core depends on how powerful a witch or wizard may be.'  
This does not mean that it doesn't flow within others, such as Muggles-or non-magic folk- because it does. However, they don't have to capability or capacity to hold magic and use it as other magic folks do. Muggles have trained through meditation to strengthen their core, but it provides minimal progress at best. You cannot change the way you are born, no matter how much training you undergo. You either have it or you don't.  Some times a person can be lucky enough to be born with a strong enough core to be defined as a wizard or as we called them, 'Muggle-Borns.'   
"When first arriving, I rarely used magic to the point that I went months and sometimes even years without using it. That was not to say that it wasn't there, but without using it, I wouldn't have easily noticed that my magic has been weakening over the years. The sudden usage of it as of late became draining and any strain on it could cause damage to my core, even breaking it which is why I passed out weeks prior entering Rivendell. It was more than what my body and core were now used to."

 

There was a frown on Gandalf's face. "I am sure with some training, you can strengthen your magical core once again."

 

Severus sighed in response and rubbed at his face tiredly. "That would be the best solution to the theory; however if what you said is true about the black riders, then I would disagree. I am not sure how I ended up here in Middle Earth, but the first thing I noticed about this world upon entering it was that it was not mine. While there are many physical similarities, there was still a noticeable shift around me, especially the 'flow' or magical signature of this world. The magic here is different and as such the things that make up this world are different. I am essentially made up of different things. And for a brief time, I was able to harmonize with this world, but as I stayed here more and more, I feel that the magic here was damaging my core instead of evolving it to work here. If my core was being directly affected then whatever was helping me keep the toxicity away is no longer there. If my magical core does not heal soon then the magic here would become damaging to the point where I can have disabilities or lose my magic completely.'  
"I have noticed that some spells would be slower than I remember them being. Another instance was at the Inn at the Prancing Pony. At first, the shields had prevented the Black Horsemen from entering. This should have been the real eye-opener for me since shields don't just break. I used a strong level shield that other wizards and witches have been using for centuries. Even after they have long died, their shields will work long after them- they just don't disappear. That was how they last manipulated that reality and it can only be changed back is if it was broken by another witch or wizard, or, in the very rare cases, the shield wasn't strong enough to hold it. I had dismissed them thinking that it was simply because they were able to penetrate through my shield, making them a much stronger opponent than I originally thought, but if it kept them out before, then it shouldn't have broken in the first place. They don't have the magical capability or knowledge to do it. The whole thing is rather complex in my own world and should be nearly impossible to penetrate here."

 

"Yet it still did."

 

"Yes. However, I am still able to use most of my powers, just not the level it used to be. But I have stayed in this world for many decades to have such significant damage so soon or to be drained so easily, but because of the riders, it seemed to have changed it.'  
"At the moment, I think it is simply 'cracked.' Medic-wizards and witches have been able to successfully been able to restore cracked cores, but not completely. There are potions and special procedures that I don't have available to me in this world. The best I can hope for is that it heals on its own, which is very unlikely, or I have to use it less or entirely to stop further breakage."

 

A new silence had overtaken them and Severus mulled over his thoughts. He was sure that he could restore his magical core in time. However, he believed that there may be hope for him yet. There was an Elf Lady, known as the Lady of Lorien, light and of Galadhirm. She was also known as the Mistress of Magic with significant power and strength. If Gandalf and Elrond could not help him, perhaps she could. But he did not dare play with idea anymore as he looked to Frodo. He had more important matters to deal with than seek his own salvation, but he felt tightness roll within him as he realized that he was now in fact limited. As if reading his thoughts, Gandalf called to him just before Frodo opened his mouth. 

 

_"Where am I, and what is the time?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   I don't know if this chapter came up as confusing with my explanation for magical theory, but that's how I think it works. There's like no real explanation since it is fanbase anyway. If you guys have questions then don't hesitate to ask. I am sure I can try to explain it better. But worry not! Severus is not losing his powers exactly, it is just going to be harder for him to use them. If he chooses to do so, it is at his own risk. 
> 
> This was something I had planned originally before I published this story, I just didn't know how I was going to add it in. And for some who might find the answer disagreeable, Severus had not, in fact, used his powers all that much. He did use them for shields and for some minor spellcasting, but he was trying to keep a low-profile at the shire. Doing any type of magic could have been more dangerous than it was worth which is why he rarely used it at the shire. He did use his powers during their trip, but it was minimal. And while he is a wizard, he is also a half-blood and is used to a muggle lifestyle. I don't think such a thing is unusual for him to live a life as such. I am sure after living through two wars and essentially dying, you'd rather just kick it back and enjoy life to the fullest so his time at the shire was kind of like an off-duty war veteran retirement thing going on. Some of you guys have commented on some spells that I have picked and while I do agree that I could have used some other spells, I am somewhat saving them for other uses. Plus, Severus had suspected something was unusual with his magic, but he kept it at the back of the head. Plus some things just don't translate back to middle earth. As Severus had said, there are some plants that don't exist in Middle Earth and some that didn't exist back in his own world. It is essentially the same thing. He is in another world that is different from his own. The story is about him, but it is also Frodo's journey. I am not trying to make Severus be the be all end all guy cause then what's the point, you know? Guy has got to have some limitations. So yeah, enough of me ranting. I should be having an easier semester until finals hit so I should update two more times before April. 
> 
> Until then, I hoped you enjoyed this chapter. We will finally be introducing the rest of the fellowship next chapter and finally get some insight on his necklace! 


	14. Chapter 14

Severus sat just a tad bit straighter at the sound of Frodo's voice. Relief washed over him in waves as he stared at the boy before him.  
Frodo was still dreadfully pale and weak. There was still a soft haze deep in his eyes, but he was alive.

However, before Severus could answer his question himself, Gandalf had already taken the liberty to answer, smoking his pipe as he went. The earlier conversation was almost forgotten, but was waiting to be retouched upon at a later time.

"You are in the house of Elrond, and it is ten o'clock in the morning on October the twenty-fourth, if you want to know," the old wizard said, watching Frodo with sharp eyes.

Almost instantly, Frodo seems to sag in relief at the sound of such a familiar voice and cried out the wizard's name. Then, Frodo's tired eyes rest upon Severus who looked only slightly more refreshed than himself, but he smiled nonetheless.

Gandalf smiled at them both. " Yes, I'm here and you're lucky to be here, too. A few more hours and you would have been beyond our aid. You have some strength in you, my dear Hobbit."

Severus listened intensively to Gandalf. While he was momentarily dispelled by his own health, Severus did not hear much of Frodo's condition other than the few words the others had told him. It was clear that he was well, but to know that he was soon slipping beyond their grasp had left a deep chill inside his chest. He had vowed to protect the young hobbit and he had almost failed. He would have to take greater precautions in the future.

By now, Frodo had already sat up and was staring at Gandalf with a questioning look, but not before sending a quick glance towards Severus. It was too quick for him to catch and he did not dare look into the mind of the hobbit.

At last, after Frodo had clutched the white sheets over and over again, he found his courage. "What happened, Gandalf? Why didn't you meet us?"

It was a good question and one that Severus did not have the pleasure of asking himself, but he wanted to hear an answer all the same. Gandalf, however, took a dreadfully long inhale on his pipe but he did not speak. Gathering his thoughts, Severus was sure, but it was plainly obvious that he would not give a direct answer and was merely picking his words carefully. Perhaps it was too dangerous or dreadful for Frodo to hear after waking so soon, but Severus was not so sure that he would be able to a clear response from the older wizard either.

"I am sorry Frodo," he said simply, a glaze almost taking over his eyes as he seemed to drift away. "I was delayed."

And as he suspected, that was all that the man said. He did not dare elaborate or provide any additional information to the trouble that he had undergone or faced. He simply left it at that.

Severus frowned even more at the lack of information, but he was far too used to old wizards not telling him everything. However, Frodo did not appear to be the same and he looked almost anxious, torn from demanding an explanation but also to remain silent.

After a painfully dreadful silence with nothing but the soft coursing of a waterful and the birds singing, it seemed that neither Frodo or Severus could quite take the silence much longer.

"Gandalf!" cried Frodo at last, snapping him out of his train of thoughts.

Almost instantly, Gandalf had blinked away whatever thoughts had overtaken him and smiled tightly back at the hobbit.

"It is nothing Frodo..." replied Gandalf simply, but Severus knew better. But before either of them could comment or grill him for answers, the door to Frodo's room had opened and Sam nearly ran to Frodo's side once he had seen that the other hobbit was up and well.

A ghost of a smile tugged at Severus's lips as he watched Sam's face bloom with joy.

"Frodo! Frodo!" Sam cried with equal parts of relief and delight. "Bless you, you're awake!"

Frodo smiled at his friendly gleefully and tightly held onto the other's hand. It was relieving for both of them as they sized each other up and finding that the other was well and taken cared for. Years of friendship allowed no words to pass between each other. It was quite intimate for Severus and he found himself looking away with a soft cough.

"Sam has hardly left your side," interrupted Gandalf. "Or you for that matter."

Severus raised a delicate brow at Sam who flushed embarrassed, but he was well aware of it from the gossip Pippin and Marry told him earlier. Sam had taken it upon himself to watch Frodo until someone had forced him out or to take message. But instead of resting or eating as he should have done, he then made his way to Severus's temporary quarters and talked to Severus about all the mischief that Pippin and Merry had gone into. The others told him that Sam would sometimes come into his rooms in the night and begged Severus to awaken and if not he would tell him his woes and fears about Frodo, about the Ring, about Gandalf, and himself.

Rarely had any of the hobbits taken counsel with him at the Shire, but it had happened before. Though it was quite limited in numbers, Sam had confessed that he trusted his judgment and experience- however, he did not wish to disturb the man for he was quite frightening. But since Severus was asleep and lost in the darkness, Sam had come seeking his aid even though he could not fully give it.

Severus supposed that he simply needed someone to talk to and while he was sure that Pippin or Merry was more than willing to offer a listening ear, Sam had still chosen to seek Severus even though he could provide no words or comfort.

He had not realized how close or how much these hobbits had come to trust him during his time in the Shire. Such loyalty and trust were neither found in Slytherin nor with him in particular. It was odd in its own way he supposed, but he found himself feeling something he could not place.

"We were worried about both of you-weren't we, Mr. Gandalf?" said Sam interrupting Severus's train of thought.

Gandalf nodded his head before taking another smoke. "Yes. But by the skills of Lord Elrond, both of you were beginning to mend."

By then, however, the other two hobbits had finally made their way towards their room and rushed to their dear cousin's side as they greeted him the same manner that they had greeted Severus earlier.

  
They were far more ecstatic and hugged Frodo carefully as he was still healing. Gandalf and Severus watched them both, amused, and let them be as they must have waited a long time for dear Frodo to wake up.

It wasn't until much later that a servant had come and had told them that dinner was to be served in a few.

The Hobbits instantly surrounded Frodo and tried to help him stand as best he could- Frodo had insisted to Severus and Gandalf that he was fine and after a quick checkup by Severus he was allowed to leave his bed.

Sam held half of his weight while Merry held the other. They half led and dragged Frodo to the parlor from before, but under the watchful gaze of Severus. Pippin, on the other hand, continued to talk and sing of his delights of Frodo doing well and for the glorious food that they would eat later tonight. It was all joyous, but Severus knew that they did not have much time to enjoy it.

The hall of Elrond's house was filled with folk: Elves for the most part, though there were a few guests of other sorts. Elrond, as was his custom, sat in a great chair at the end of the long table upon the dais; and next to him on the one side sat Glorfindel, on the other side sat Gandalf.

With a quick glance to Gandalf and Lord Elrond who were talking in hush whispers, he knew that they would need to answer to danger's call once more, but he decided to allow the hobbits a moment of bliss.

In the middle of the table, against the woven cloths upon the wall, there was a chair under a canopy, and there sat the woman from before: Lady Arwen. It was the first time that Frodo has seen her and Severus could easily see the amazement in his eyes.

Her bright eyes had found Frodo first and she smiled warmly at him, but her eyes soon traveled to Severus where she offered him a bright smile- almost as if she was glad to find him here in her humble home and seated at her father's table. And while he became less focus on his looks over the years, he could not help but feel some level of self-consciousness as he found that the other folk, so high and fair that shared the table with him, seemed to find him as interesting as every other elf he had come across.

He felt greatly out of place in a way he did not understand. They did not hide their glances or their whispers, making it plainly obvious that they were talking about him. Though he tried his best to not show that it bothered him and had instead made sure that the other hobbits acted on their best behavior as they were sitting here not as a right but as an honor and should treat it as such.

Similar to Frodo, Severus did not speak much and had instead decided to listen, but he did indulge in a conversation or two.

At length, the feast came to an end. Elrond and Arwen rose and went down the hall, and the company followed them in due order. The doors were thrown open, and they went across a wide passage and through other doors and came into a further hall. In it were no tables, but a bright fire was burning in a great hearth between the carven pillars upon either side. Frodo found himself walking with Gandalf.

''This is the Hall of Fire,'' said the wizard. ''Here you will hear many songs and tales-if you can keep awake. But except on high days, it usually stands empty and quiet, and people come here who wish for peace, and thought. There is always a fire here, all the year round, but there is little other light.''

As Elrond entered and went towards the seat prepared for him, elvish minstrels began to make sweet music. Slowly the hall filled, and Frodo looked with delight upon the many fair faces that were gathered together; the golden firelight played upon them and shimmered in their hair.

But Severus did not mind them and had instead decided to sit near the ledge where the waterfall was in full sight along with moon and stars. It was not chilly nor warm, it just was. But there was a breeze from the north that brushed through Severus's hair and kissed his skin gently.

  
Memories of his past had resurfaced. Nights at Hogwarts were very similar to this. He would often take nightly strolls/patrols when he had trouble sleeping or needed time to think when he was busy during the day.

Those nights were always cool and he found the silence of the castle to both be odd and comforting. The small ripple of the Lake reminded him that another world lived below those waters. And as he watched the current meet the shore and the moon's lights shimmered against the waves, he felt a small boost of tranquility and comfort.

He used to come here during his time when he was a schoolboy then and he never was able to stop the habit as an adult. But near the end of the war when he was headmaster, they were no longer comforts that he could indulge in. He no longer had the time to find his peace of mind and instead roamed the halls to send students to their rooms least they get punished or stay in his rooms finding ways to destroy the Horcruxes and help Potter on his journey.

"Master Snape," said a voice behind him, snapping Severus out of wayward thoughts.

Elrond had come forward and stood behind Severus. He was watching the stars much like the centaurs did with a faraway look, though he knew that the elf's attention was very much on him.

"Lord Elrond," he greeted. By now Severus has noticed the hobbits were resting by the fire near Gandalf as he smoked his pipe and told them stories. They were relaxing until it was time for them to go to bed in the next couple of hours. Though Severus could already see Sam falling to sleep as he leaned his head against Frodo's good shoulder.

"A word, if you please?" asked Elrond as he gestured downwards toward the courtyard.

Severus barely thought to answer as he already found himself standing diligently and following the elven Lord down the marble staircase.

They walked silently for a long while, passing by a few guards and other elven folks that greeted their Lord and himself- not without glancing towards his person.

"I hear all kind of news from over the mountains and out of the south, though I hardly ever hear news from the Shire. I was quite surprised to find that the Ring has been hidden for so long, locked away by simple Hobbiton folk. However, it would seem that the ring was not the only thing hidden. A Wizard had mysteriously found his way right along the time that the ring was founded again."

Severus had opened his mouth to defend himself but Lord Elrond simply laughed and waved his worries away. "No, no, no. I do not blame you for the disturbance. I am sure the ring would have been founded anyway. I merely wished that Gandalf had found it sooner, but the reason why I had I come to you was not to discuss the ring- there will be plenty of time for that in the morrow- but to discuss why you are here.'

"I am sure that you have noticed many things that are quite odd. Your age and magic being just a few of them. Very interesting indeed. I have never felt magic quite like yours and I doubt that I or anyone else ever will. It is unique and not part of this world so you can say that you are too. Gandalf had not said much, but I have lived many lifetimes and I know many things, but I have never once encountered a situation quite like yours."

They continued to walk until they reached what was seemingly a dead end of rock and vines, but Lord Elrond continued to move with no hesitation and walked passed the vines and trees in their path to a clearing- a secret path near the banks of the waterfall and mountain.   
  
There was only the rushing of water and the soft glow of the moon. The smell of flowers and water was fresh and Severus found himself relaxing. But they did not speak and they continued to walk until Lord Elrond sat on a makeshift stone bench right under the moonlight. The man seemed to glow heavenly like the stars. 

  
"I had a vision just a night before your arrival. I was warned that there were dangers at Weathertop. And I had another one, many years ago, in the forest just beyond the reaches of the Shire. I saw a glow so vibrant and young, pulsing like the beat of the earth. For a long moment, everything had gone still and I sensed great magic arise, but along with it came pain and death. Once the glow had subsided, I found a man sleeping in tattered black robes, pale and tired. The earth had seemed to welcome him and moved for the man's comfort. I did not know who you were and the vision had begun to fade. When I had awakened, I knew not your name or where you came from, but I knew who you were. You were a warrior with great skill and power- one that would be a great ally against Sauron. But I had also known that you were in desperate need of peace that you had long since been denied. There was a cloud that surrounded you and there continues to be one today. A darkness still takes hold of you- your grief, your regret, your anger, and sadness had followed you here and it seems that it continues to remain strong.'

"I saw your entrance into this world, but that was as far as my vision allowed me to see. I did not send someone for you because if you were here there was a path you were destined to take and it was up to you to choose. I only knew that I would help you on your path when it was time for us to meet. Imagine my surprise when I met the man not only from my vision but the same man that Gandalf spoke very highly of, come in medical need."

Both Severus and Lord Elrond remained silent as they continued their stroll passed the gardens and into a small forest just before the end of their borders. Clearing his throat, Severus looked to Lord Elrond for answers.

"And this?" he questioned as he gestured to his chest, neither removing or showing the pendant that laid there. "Do you know what it is or why I have it?"

Lord Elrond remained silent, looking thoughtfully at him before sighing and gazing upwards as if seeking guidance from the stars above.

"The white gem like a star that lays upon you is a gift from the world. It can represent many things, but I cannot tell you what they are. It is for you to find on this journey and for you to decided what to do with it once you have your answers."

Severus sighed. "You will not tell me much more will you?"

Lord Elrond laugh. "No. I shall not. You may seek further answer from friends allies along the way to answer your questions, but only you can seek the answer deep inside you. We are only here to guide you."

They remained in silence, enjoying the night until it was late in the evening and it was time for them to go. 

After Severus had returned, he and Frodo took a stroll with Gandalf has he elaborated all that had happened during the time that they were both ill. He answered more questions, as vague as they were, and talk about the splinter ledged into Frodo's flesh that was only found and removed the night before. It had sparked a lot of worry for all of them, but the matter had been fixed and there was nothing that they could do about it now, reasoned Gandalf. However, after Frodo was lastly set off to bed, Gandalf had told him that the wound never go away and it would remain with him for the rest of his life.

The additional information did not sit well inside Severus, but with hard hold for comfort on his shoulder, Gandalf had sent him off as well for the night.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning after a quick breakfast, Severus and Frodo had taken a small stroll by the garden. Gandalf had told them last night that there was to be a meeting with representatives across the land to discuss ring and the plans that they shall take. Severus knew that Frodo was nervous. He was a bit more clumsy and fidgety than usual and he did not possess that calm grace that he often associated with the boy.

It was still early in the morning and the sun had barely set itself a quarter the way up into the sky. The trees, flowers, and grass glimmered from the morning dew- the smell of water and earth was fresh and strong. it was along this way under some small discussion did they find a small old hobbit sitting by the edge. It was Bilbo Baggins.

Frodo nearly froze at the sight but quickly rushed towards Bilbo's side with glee. Severus stood to the side as he watched them from afar embrace each other.

However, Frodo did not forget him and had sent him a glance. Severus nodded his head and watched as both made their way to Bilbo's room.

He knew that Frodo needed this moment alone with Bilbo and while he would like to share pleasantries with the old hobbit himself, he knew that he would have time for such things later. He had instead decided to continue his stroll since they have to wait for a few more men and elves to arrive for the meeting.

It was all the same to Severus and he did not think that he should be present for it or Frodo for that matter, but they were both requested by Lord Elrond and Gandalf. It was only fitting that those that brought the ring should be present to see where it will go after them. But neither Sam's nor Pippin's nor Merry's presence was requested. And while he did not wish for them to be there anyway, he knew that they would find a way to listen in. They were a lot sneakier than he gives them credit for.

Still, he should take it upon himself to scold them but he could not find it inside his heart to do it and instead kept to his musing until he came across the front gate where riders began to pool in. Many were men and some were elves and other dwarves. he did not know any of them, but he was sure that he would soon find out.

 

 


End file.
